


The Parents

by Hey_You



Series: Star-Crossed Lovers [1]
Category: Hunger Games (2012), Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Child Abuse, F/M, Parents & Children
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 14:31:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 40,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hey_You/pseuds/Hey_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The continuation of the Star-Crossed lovers, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, featuring the perspective of their parents. AU - modern day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reflections

**Author's Note:**

> The Hunger Games characters are the property of Suzanne Collins.

John Mellark stood in front of the lump of dough that was intended to be sweet rolls but his mind was elsewhere. His thoughts had strayed to his youngest son, Peeta. Without realizing, he smiled widely remembering their conversation this morning.  
  
Peeta was five-years-old and had already learned some exceptionally tough life lessons. Paramount of those lessons was that mothers don't automatically love their children. Despite that, John marveled at the fact that his son was one of the sunniest, happiest and most loving little boys around. Peeta was an incredible optimist.  
  
However, this morning, Peeta was obviously troubled about something. "Peeta, something on your mind?"  
  
Peeta squeezed his father's hand a little tighter and weighed his words. It wasn't that he thought his dad would deny him. It was more the consequences if his mother found out. "Daddy? I want to buy Katniss a Christmas gift." It seemed like a simple request, but he was quite certain that it was complicated because nothing in his home life was simple.  
  
John had looked down at his son, "You're buying a Christmas present that will be exchanged in class. Maybe she will get the gift."  
  
Peeta shook his head. He did not want to rely on chance. He also did not want her to receive a generic box of Lifesavers as his gift. "It's gotta be something special Dad. It just has to be." His brow was furrowed.  
  
"Son, what if she doesn't get you anything."  
  
"It doesn't matter, Daddy. I want to get her something because she's special. She doesn't need to get me anything."  
  
They had walked in silence for a few minutes. "Do you have something in mind?"  
  
Peeta shook his head. "I think I will know it when I see it." John smiled at his logic.  
  
"All right, Peeta, I'll take you to the mall on Sunday, okay?"  
  
Peeta grinned up at him, and he felt himself mirror the expression back at his son.  
  
Now, three hours later, all he could think about was that something far beyond his control was at work in his little boy's life. The first day of school, he had spotted Katniss with her father and pointed her out to Peeta. Before he could stop himself, he told the little boy that he had loved the little girl's mother at some point. "Oh hell, if I'm honest, I probably still do," he muttered. Still, he wondered if his words had somehow pushed his son toward the little girl with braids.  
  
He sighed. John Mellark was not sure that he believed in fate or destiny, but somehow his little Peeta with the blonde curls and the winning smile, had become so entwined with the little dark haired girl with a scowl, that the teacher had even commented about their friendship during conferences. Inseparable.    
  
It was the same term everyone had once used with John and Jen Davis. They had discovered each other during seventh grade. That awkward phase when boys really notice girls, but the girls seem to be swooning over upperclassmen. There was no middle school yet, so John's competition, real or imagined, were the older boys.  
  
When he was fifteen, however, he underwent a growth spurt and returning to school in the fall, he noticed that a lot of girls were taking note of him. Most importantly Jen. They sat together before school and at lunch, and during every class they shared with one another. Her parents made her wait until she was sixteen to date, but still they spent every minute possible together.  
  
Once they were dating, they became truly inseparable. Jen would hang out at the bakery until he was done with his shift, and then they would head out for the night. Sometimes it was a movie. Other times, they watched a sporting event that John was not involved in. Always, though, they were together. It was perfect, and John felt nostalgic thinking back. He loved her. He knew that now, for sure, no question. But he was stupid.  
  
Every boy in the school wanted Jen, his Jen. He remembered the pride he had when he would walk down the hall hand-in-hand. She loved to kiss, but wasn't in any hurry to lose her virginity. A frustrating side effect of dating Jen, but one he thought he could live with until she was ready.  
  
He arrived home one night and saw his father sitting in his chair waiting for him. John only wanted to get upstairs and relieve some of the pressure that resulted from his earlier make out session. His father had been quite vocal about the overall closeness of their relationship. He was opposed to it. His father felt that John was too young to be so serious about a girl. That evening, he gave John a piece of advice, which initially shocked and angered the boy, but later sounded reasonable. He advised John to play the field a bit, explore "other opportunities."  
  
He knew by now that girls found him quite attractive. They oftentimes approached him even with Jen nearby. During one especially frustrating week when he begged Jen to let him touch her, John finally broke down. The girl was a senior, known for "friendliness." In less than a half hour, he experienced his first blowjob, and first actual sex. It was hardly fantastic and guilt roiled in his belly when he saw Jen.  
  
Days passed with no repercussions though, and he relaxed enough to find another willing partner. This time the sex was better, and the guilt a little less. He could live with Jen's reluctance as long as he had the other girls. The third time was no charm, though, as the girl wanted more than a one night stand and quickly confronted Jen.  
  
Tears, confessions and angry outbursts marked the final conversation of their relationship. His father was relieved at first, but John was angry at him, at Jen, but mostly at himself. He went into a tailspin that worried his father to the point where he suggested a reconciliation with Jen, but John knew his actions had pushed him far from Jen.  
  
Over his seventeenth summer, John cut a wide swath through the available girls. He developed a nickname, "Love Em and Leave Em Mellark." One night in July, he happened upon a girl who was not particularly pretty. She had green eyes and mousy brown hair, but he was beyond caring about physical attraction. He craved only a warm body and Cynthia Howard was just that, a warm and willing body.  
  
The next day, he barely remembered her, and was already scouting his next conquest among the customers that walked through the door of the bakery. But John would remember her two months later when she and her father arrived near closing time.  A four-way discussion ensued, during which time it was revealed that Cynthia Howard was pregnant and that she had been a virgin at the time she fell into John's orbit.  
  
He remembered her then mostly because virgins were a rarity in his experience. Negotiations began in earnest when the girl swore she had been with no other boy. A quick wedding was arranged, and two weeks later, he stood nervously in front of a small chapel. John wanted to vomit. Less because of the impending marriage, and more because he had noticed Jen holding hands with Blake Everdeen that day.  
  
He and Cynthia married, and lived as siblings in the basement of his parents house. One evening his dad caught him trying to sneak out of the house for a little fun. He quickly set John straight about his responsibilities and how he had to now be faithful to his wife. A heated argument followed during which John angrily hurled accusations about ruining his life with Jen. It was clear when he finally went downstairs that Cynthia had heard everything and he felt incredible remorse.  
  
John became a father two days before graduation. The Mellark traits overpowered anything that Cynthia brought to the table, and a golden hair boy named John, Jr. joined their family. He loved his son completely and never once regretted his presence.  
  
He tried to attend community college, but it was difficult with a wife and baby, not to mention the extra shifts he was pulling for diapers, milk and other necessities. Still, they settled into a normal existence. His father remodeled the apartment above the bakery, and they moved in.  
  
Baby Derrick joined the family when John, Jr. was three. His hair was more sandy in color and his eyes appeared hazel, but he most definitely had the Mellark charm. Cynthia hoped for a little girl, but she was young and surely a third child would be a daughter. But historically, Mellark males tended to have male offspring.  
  
Shortly after Derrick's birth, John heard that Jen and Blake were getting married. No shotgun wedding for her. The wedding date was six months from their engagement. He still felt a certain amount of bitterness, but now realized that he was at fault in the breakup. Still, he was content with his two sons.  
  
Cynthia waited four years before she approached John about another baby. She had researched it and found that girl babies were usually born during the winter months, so she began planning for a winter baby. John loved children, though, and would gladly have a dozen, boys or girls really made no difference to him.  
  
All her planning was for naught, however, because she did not get pregnant until after the "winter window" passed. Still, she hoped for a daughter. This time she requested not to know the sex of the baby during the routine ultrasounds. The doctor confirmed that it was healthy and proceeding according to schedule. Cynthia moved both little boys into one room, and totally redid the nursery in pinks and yellows reminiscent of a Barbie.  
  
On May 7, they went to the hospital and after a relatively easy delivery, the doctors and nurses exclaimed over the blondness of the hair and the blueness of the eyes. She waited for the doctor to exclaim, "It's a girl!" But there was no such announcement. John hovered close by, and finally looked into her eyes, and in that moment, she knew. A coldness set in, and when they lay the newborn on her chest, she asked that they remove him immediately.  
  
A day later, John stood outside the nursery window admiring his little son who lay contentedly sucking on his fist. The newly christened Peeta was amazingly calm. Periodically, John would notice the quirk of an invisible eyebrow or the twitch of the corner of his mouth which nearly gave him the appearance of a smile.  
  
A second bassinet was rolled alongside, and based on the blanket color, a girl. She was as dark as Peeta was light. She looked delicate and John smiled at her and wondered what it would be like to hold the little girl. She was wide awake and staring around at the world. Her head turned toward Peeta's bed, and he looked at his little son realizing that the babies appeared to be looking at one another.  
  
"Already have an eye for a pretty girl, Peeta?" John whispered.  
  
Just then, John was joined by someone else at the window. He glanced to the side and back to his son, and then did a double-take. Standing a foot away was Blake Everdeen and he was staring at the little girl's bassinet with unabashed adoration. John swallowed a lump.  
  
"Blake," he held out his hand. Everdeen turned slightly, a bit surprised, but took the outstretched hand.  
  
"John." He glanced back into the nursery. "Your boy?" John nodded.  
  
"Your girl?" Blake nodded.  
  
"Isn't she a beauty?" His voice was full of wonder.  
  
"She is," John agreed. The babies continued to stare at each other. The men stood side-by-side watching the infants who eventually drifted to sleep. Blake stepped away with a hearty slap on John's shoulder.  
  
"I'm going to keep an eye on that one," Blake jested lightly jerking his head in the direction of Peeta, and headed down the hall to his wife's room.  
  
John stayed several more minutes concentrating on the features of the little girl and trying to sort Jen's out from Blake's.  
  
So, here they were, five years later, and his little boy was completely taken with the dark-haired beauty. At first John had tried to talk him out of it, but one day he realized that he did not want to be his father. If Peeta liked Katniss, he would never stand in his way.  
  
That Sunday, John took Peeta shopping. They started in a toy store and ended up in a jewelers. Peeta knew she played with toys, but nothing typical of a little girl. But when they walked by the jewelry store, Peeta suddenly stopped and peered at a tiny gold locket in the window. The father checked out the price tag and then looked at his son's pleading eyes before he nodded to the jeweler.  
  
On the back, Peeta wanted engraving, and on the inside was placed a tiny photo of him and her. The locket would show up in every school photo through her graduation pictures. It became one of her treasured possessions. On their wedding day, it became the focus of one of their favorite photos as Peeta clasped it around her neck prior to the ceremony. It no longer rested above her heart but rather just slightly below her neckline. It was slightly worn, but the engraving was still there: To K from P. Always.


	2. Unexpected Play Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hunger Games characters are the property of Suzanne Collins.

"Katniss, please find something to do," Jen Everdeen ordered her oldest daughter. Katniss stood in front of the picture window in the living room watching it snow. Periodically, she would draw away from the window and wonder out loud what Peeta was doing, then she would sigh deeply and pace the floor for awhile, and then move back to the window.  
  
"Mommy, there's nothing to do," she said with exasperation. "Primmy is napping. Daddy is at work and you're busy." Her voice carried a slightly accusatory tone.  
  
Jen sighed and wondered what happened to her independent little girl who always played by herself so well. "Katniss, dear, I would love to play with you, but I'm cleaning the cupboards right now and putting in new shelf paper. Why don't you read a book or play with your Lincoln Logs?"  
  
Katniss huffed out a breath but didn't stop her aimless wandering.  
  
It was only the fifth day of Christmas break, not even halfway, and Jen was already at her whit's end not knowing how to deal with Katniss. The ringing of the doorbell interrupted her thoughts.  
  
"I'll get it," Katniss called out, welcoming the distraction.  
  
"Katniss, wait …." But it was too late, and Katniss had already swung the door wide to reveal John and Peeta Mellark. John stood with an abashed grin on his face, but little Peeta looked like his face was about to split in half with his joy.  
  
Before John could say anything, Katniss barreled out the door and engulfed Peeta in a hug that spun him in a circle and dropped him flat on his back on the snowy porch, Katniss landing mostly on top of him.  
  
"Sorry, Peeta," Katniss said, pushing herself up. "Are you hurt?" She offered him a hand.  
  
Peeta took her hand, still grinning widely. "Nope. I'm okay." He brushed off his clothes.  
  
Jen hid her laughter behind her hand as she watched the two little ones interact. Katniss was now helping Peeta brush off his rear end, all the while chattering away at him in a most-unKatniss-like way.  
  
John cleared his throat, "I'm sorry, I should have called but Peeta was pretty determined that Katniss would want to see him."  
  
"Hmmm. I don't know, John," Jen joked, "I'm not sure Katniss is really happy he's here." John turned to look at the two children, both sporting huge smiles and talking over the top of each other. "If you would like, John, Peeta can stay and play here this afternoon."  
  
"You don't mind? I mean, I don't want him to intrude."  
  
"No, it will be a welcome diversion for Katniss. She's been at loose ends for days."  
  
"Tell me about it. Peeta has been driving everyone crazy, and that's probably not the best around our home."  
  
Unfortunately for the Mellarks, Cynthia's temper was the worst kept secret in town. On top of everything, most people knew that she was especially infuriated by her youngest son.  Jen nodded.  
  
"I think we should leave it up to them," she smiled and nodded in the direction of the children. Peeta was demonstrating the size of the snowball he had made two days ago, and Katniss listened in rapt attention. "Peeta, Katniss." Both sets of eyes turned to her, "Would you two like to play together this afternoon?" Two little heads nodded vigorously as Katniss grabbed his hand and pulled him through the open door.  
  
"Thanks. Call the bakery whenever he's ready to go home."  
  
"By the looks of things, I'm going to guess he'll be ready the day before break ends." John nodded and smiled, then waved goodbye before he headed back toward the heart of town.  
  
The two children were already squatting on the floor playing with the Lincoln Logs that had earlier been ignored. Jen watched them play for several minutes.  
  
"If we use both sets, we can build something bigger," Katniss said with authority.  
  
"Like a tower?"  
  
"Mmmmhmmm. Like a tower or a big cabin."  
  
Peeta was thoughtful for a minute, "I've never seen a cabin except, you know, like this," he pointed to the front of the box.  
  
"Just a second," Katniss got up and ran to the book shelf, and pulled out a photo album and opened to a page near the back. "Here, Peeta. Here's a picture of the cabin my daddy built for us in the woods." Her little index finger pointed to a smallish cabin set alongside a picturesque lake.  
  
"Wow!" Peeta exclaimed.  
  
"That's where you and me will live when we get big," she said, without looking away from the photo. Peeta's heart swelled as he remembered the conversation with Delly over a month ago. Jen raised her eyebrows at her daughter's declaration.  
  
"So you two are going to live together when you grow up?" Both children glanced up in surprise, having forgotten that she was in the room.  
  
"Yes," Katniss confirmed with sincerity. "Peeta and I are going to live in the cabin that Daddy built, and eat brownies and bakery rolls." Peeta nodded enthusiastically, as Jen suppressed a giggle at the far off dream. Little did she realize, though, Katniss's statement was uncannily prophetic. The summer after they graduated high school, the pair moved into the cabin by the lake. Although, brownies and bakery rolls were not the only thing that sustained them during those months.  
  
Throughout the afternoon, the two played together. Tiring of Lincoln Logs, they moved on to something else. Jen peeked in and reminded Katniss to pick up the toys when she was done playing but it was Peeta's actions that surprised her. He looked up quickly, his eyebrows arched in alarm, and jumped to his feet, hastily completing the task.  
  
Blake arrived home to find two pair of feet sticking out from beneath the blanketed dining room table. He kissed Jen, and gestured in the direction of the table. "Peeta's visiting." A gentle smile crossed his face as he slightly shook his head.  
  
"Should they be … under there?" he questioned wryly.  
  
"Well, they're five."  
  
"They won't always be," he reminded her, but instead reached down and tugged on the foot he knew to be Katniss's. She sat up and peeked out at him.  
  
"Hi Daddy!" She reached up for a hug. "Peeta and me are pretending we're lost in the woods surrounded by bears and other animals." Just then a mop of curly blonde hair attached to a little boy presented itself. The little boy's lopsided grin warmed something within Blake and he found himself returning it, unable to resist mussing the little boys hair.  
  
"Shall I be the bear?" Two little heads nodded enthusiastically. "Okay, let me get out of this coat."  
  
"Come on, Peety," Katniss coaxed, as the little boy flushed at his new nickname. His father occasionally shortened his name to "Peet" but no one had ever added a "y."  He pushed himself under the canopy.  
  
The parents exchanged a glance as they listened to the conversation from beneath the dining room table.  
  
"Peety, you go make some supper and I will keep a lookout for the bear."  
  
"Okay, whatcha want for supper? I can make cake or muffins."  
  
"Cake this time I think, with lots of pretty flowers on it and stuff."  They heard shuffling under the table.  
  
"How are you going to get the bear?" He sounded a bit worried.  
  
"With my bow and arrow. Don't worry, Peety. You're safe with me. I'll protect you. Now you have to be quiet or we might not hear the bear."  
  
"Okay," he whispered back.  
  
Just then Blake dropped to his knees and roared loudly causing the two little people to squeal in appreciation.  
  
"Here comes the bear," Peeta's voice was an octave higher than normal.  
  
"RRRRRRawrrrrrr. Here I come, I'm the big bad bear," Blake moved toward the table.  
  
Katniss quickly pulled up the corner of the blanket. "Daddy, bears don't talk." He dipped his head and nodded.  
  
He circled the table a few times and Katniss finally flung the blanket up and drew back her bow string with the little suction-cupped arrow and shot it at her father. It was obvious they had played the game before, and Blake rolled to his side and moved his arms and legs frantically before sprawling in front of them.  
  
"Come on, Peety. Let's look at the bear I shot." She walked to her daddy and gently nudged him with her toe. "Ain't he a beaut!" She said mimicking her father when he was hunting. "We'll have meat for the winter and a dandy rug for the fireplace." Peeta was in awe, not of the bear, but the fact that Katniss's father willingly played games with her.  
  
Twenty minutes later the phone rang. Blake picked up and after a few, "uh-huhs" and "I sees" turned to Jen. "Seems there's a little emergency and John asked if we could keep Peeta for the night." Jen nodded, worrying about the emergency.  
  
Peeta, on the other hand, was not concerned about what ill might have befallen his family. Instead, he and Katniss were hugging each other with abandon as they realized their play date would be extended far beyond their wildest dreams.  
  
Once they calmed down, Jen went to the living room and sat on the couch. "Peeta, come here a moment." Peeta approached her timidly, his fingers working together nervously. Jen eyed her husband and noticed that he had caught Peeta's demeanor. She reached out a hand and he shied away from her causing Katniss to frown slightly.  "What's the matter, Peeta?"  
  
"I … I won't make noise anymore. I promise."  
  
"Noise?"  
  
"Yeah, I was making a lot of noise. I'm sorry and I won't do it again. I promise." His eyes were hopeful.  
  
"Oh sweety," Jen said gathering him close. No one had ever called him "sweety," or for that matter, hugged him for making noise. She heard the soft sigh again that she heard the first time she hugged him. "You don't have to worry about making noise. Mr. Everdeen and I love to hear Katniss's laughter and your's is just as welcome." She pushed him back slightly and she could see the confusion on his face but chose to ignore it.  
  
"Now, Peeta, I was just wondering what you like to eat?" His expression grew even more perplexed. Again, no one had ever consulted him about what he might want to eat. He shrugged.  
  
"All right. Do you like spaghetti?" His head bobbed up and down quickly and a shy smile appeared on his face. They rarely ate spaghetti at his house.  
  
She squeezed his shoulder once more and went to the kitchen. Blake followed. Both were quiet as they began supper preparations. Finally, Blake broke the silence, "What do you suppose that was out there? He acted like he was afraid of you or something."  
  
Jen shushed her husband and said quietly, "I've heard … things about his mother." Blake looked in her eyes, an understanding passed between them.  
  
At the supper table, Peeta was initially quiet until Katniss repeatedly engaged him in conversation. Soon the two little ones were chattering away as they ate their spaghetti. Katniss played silly games with her food to make Primmy laugh. Altogether, the atmosphere was very different from Peeta's supper table.  
  
Once they were finished eating, Peeta fidgeted a bit. Finally he blurted, "May I wash the dishes now?" All of the Everdeens turned to stare at the little boy, which made him fidget more.  
  
Jen wasn't sure she had heard right. "You want to wash the dishes?"  
  
"Yes ma'am," he replied politely. "I wash them at home. It's one of my chores." With that, he leapt to his feet and gathered his dish and silverware and carried them to the sink. Then, he pushed his chair to the sink, inserted the stopper and started the water. He was evidently an old hand at this as he was a very thorough dishwasher. Blake and Jen exchanged another glance.  
  
Katniss, not wanting to be outdone in her own house, brought her plate to the sink and then retrieved her chair and a dish towel and stood alongside him. That night set the standard for years to come, Peeta would wash and Katniss would dry, and together they would make plans for their evening.


	3. Why?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter from Peeta's mother's perspective. It might be a difficult read for some, and I will follow it up with a Kindergarten chapter a little later this evening.
> 
> The Hunger Games characters belong to Suzanne Collins.

A slamming door jarred her from sleep. Cynthia Mellark's eyes shot open and were instantaneously shrouded in anger. "Peeta!" She spat the name with such contempt that anyone hearing it would have assumed that the speaker held only pure hatred for the owner. And maybe she did. Although, most times she hid her feelings well and many thought she was just a "cold-hearted woman." But in reality, it was much deeper than that simple phrase would indicate.  
  
Unbeknownst to her, it was not Peeta who slammed the door. Rather, it was her oldest and most beloved son, JJ. She hated that name and preferred instead to call him by the name Jonathan, which ironically, was not his real name. On the day he was born, Cynthia was too delighted in her little son to pay much attention when his name was settled: John Thomas Mellark, Jr.  
  
Early in her pregnancy, she had decided that his name would be Jonathan, and then somehow it slipped by her. For weeks, she and her young husband had battled it out with his egocentric-self pushing for the junior demarcation to his name. Finally, she had given in and allowed the legal name to remain; however, from that day forward, he was Jonathan to her.  
  
But that was years ago, and the disappointments had only mounted since that time. Now, she lay in virtual silence waiting for the voice of her youngest that would cut through her like fingernails on a chalkboard and send her careening over the edge.  
  
Later. Years, in fact. A counselor would ask what specifically caused the outbursts and uncontrolled anger targeted at her youngest son, and Cynthia could only shrug her shoulders. In her heart, she knew that Peeta was the embodiment of every disappointment she had felt since that fateful first night she had sex with John Mellark as an inexperienced 17-year-old.  
  
From the day Peeta was born, everyone remarked about how handsome the little boy was, and in her objective moments, she agreed. He was handsome. His blonde curls and blue eyes, the cleft in his chin and the dimple that fleeted in and out of his cheek as he smiled, combined with a near perfect facial structure resulted in an extraordinarily handsome child. And she hated him for it because in many ways he was a prettier boy than she ever was a pretty woman. Cynthia knew that people whispered that John was much too handsome for a woman like her, and she accepted that fact. But it angered her when people commented that "obviously" Peeta inherited all of his father's best features and made no mention of what he might have inherited from her.  
  
To make matters worse, almost unbearable for Cynthia, the boy was sweet, quite possibly her sweetest child. He had undeniable charm and his personality grated on her as he tried extra hard to be a good boy. It was just too much and she wished for the day … well, she wished for the day. What bothered her the most was that he should have been her long-awaited daughter, but he was not, and so his very existence was something that she found nearly intolerable.  
  
There was a peculiar irony to her behavior though. After each anger-borne incident, she felt incredible remorse and regret. Often times, she would collapse in tears and promise never again to hurt him; but the promise was short-lived.  
  
So it was an odd roller coaster-like existence for the Mellark household. Since Christmas, Peeta had spent more and more time at a friend's house. Many nights he would sleep over, and that was just fine with Cynthia. The less he was around, the less likely her temper would flare out of control. She had come to anticipate those days when Peeta left for school in the morning and did not return home until late Sunday evening.  
  
On this particular morning, however, she lay in bed as her anger burned to an inferno within her. She had not even heard his voice yet, and felt herself propelled to the edge of the cliff. Cynthia often reasoned to herself that she was not responsible for her actions. John, of course, always blamed her for what happened but really …  
  
For his part, John could not understand how anyone could dislike the towheaded boy. When Peeta was just a baby, he kept him in the bakery all day long. From an early age, Peeta charmed old and young alike with his winning smile and his funny way with words. But his mother was among the few that could resist his charm, and John knew that he could not leave Peeta alone with her.  
  
As he grew older, John sought the advice of a lawyer who told him that some men were successful in gaining full custody, but it could potentially be very messy and there were no guarantees. With that information, John had made several decisions that day — the biggest being his commitment to Peeta's well-being and to remain with Cynthia to protect him. He could not risk leaving little Peeta unprotected.  
  
Cynthia rose from the bed and put on her silk robe. John discovered early in the marriage that he could buy momentary contentment with gifts, so her closet and jewelry box were full to bursting. She pulled open the door of her bedroom and stepped into the vacant hallway. Rarely did she rise before eight o'clock.  
  
John, on the other hand, rose at four o'clock and worked for three hours before his staff arrived to take over at the bakery so he could get the boys off to school.  
  
She made her way to the kitchen, the chatter growing louder as she approached.  
  
"Do you want one of these?" John's deep voice questioned.  
  
"Oh yes, Daddy," Peeta squealed, causing Cynthia to stop and close her eyes, inhaling deeply before she continued on toward the kitchen.  
  
The chatter continued, and she did her best to block it out as she walked into the kitchen and noticed Peeta perched on the center island as John packed his lunch for the day. Her anger was kindled anew as she walked toward the coffeemaker. Everyone noticed her at once and silence fell over the kitchen as no one was accustomed to her presence this early.  
  
Had she been watching, she would have noticed the warning look John directed to Peeta and his silent nod in return, but she was focussed on her early morning caffeine fix. Everyone waited for her first words to determine her mood for the day.  
  
Finally, "I don't suppose any of you care that I was sound asleep this morning when the door to the downstairs bathroom was SLAMMED, do you?" Everyone was silent. Peeta could feel her eyes on him but studied his hands in his lap instead of meeting her cold green eyes. "What do you have to say for yourself, PEETA?" His name fell from her mouth like vomit and she recoiled at the sound of it.  
  
Peeta remained silent. He knew his best course of action was silence, and was comforted by the fact that there was safety in numbers.  
  
"Cynthia, dear," John began in his best soothing voice. He knew that she rarely acted out in his presence. "Peeta wasn't in the downstairs bathroom this morning. He always uses the upstairs one." He turned to his wife, and noticed her eyes were devoid of emotion.  
  
It looked like she was ready to speak but JJ cut in. "That's right, Mother," he said. "It was me in the bathroom. The door slipped and I'm sorry." Her eyes left Peeta momentarily as she digested the new information. Jonathan? Why would Jonathan slam the door? Even when confronted with the facts, she chose to focus her anger on Peeta.  
  
"So, you tied up the bathroom upstairs so your brother would have to use the one downstairs? You are so selfish, so …"  
  
JJ interrupted again, "No Mother, I used the downstairs bathroom because I like the shower better." He had recently discovered that regular showering was considered a positive by his female peers.  
  
Cynthia was breathing hard, looking for an outlet. Peeta had still not lifted his eyes. Peeta with the blonde curls that should have been on her daughter's head. Suddenly, her anger overwhelmed her and she rushed forward and grabbed Peeta off the counter and carried him down the hallway. Her movement was so swift and unexpected that John was frozen for several seconds and Peeta only let out a slight whimper in alarm.  
  
She carried him as if he were diseased, under the arms to the bathroom, the site of the early morning sound violation, and kicked the door closed, locking it behind them. "You look disgusting with those curls. You look like a girl." She roughly set him by the sink, and grabbed a scissors from the drawer. Everything was happening so fast that Peeta didn't react. Cynthia grabbed a fistful of hair and cut it off close to the scalp.  
  
John arrived at that moment just as Peeta let out his first shriek. His hand on the knob, he hollered to his wife, "Cynthia, you open this door right now!" His demand was met only with the sounds of a Cynthia's low voice telling Peeta that she was doing it for his own good.  
  
Peeta shrieked once more, and John couldn't bear it. He stood back a bit and hurled his body into the door, which broke free of the frame splintering it in the process. What he saw broke his heart. Peeta sat frozen on the vanity, his beautiful curls lay mostly in small heaps on the floor. Fat tears made there way down his cheeks.  
  
John grabbed her wrist forcefully until the scissors dropped to the floor and she yelped in anger. "We'll talk when I get home." He pulled Peeta from the counter, and held him close, crooning soft words to him to quell the tears. JJ and Derrick looked horrified at the sight of their little brother. John grabbed Peeta's lunch and quickly got him in his jacket. The older boys could get to school on their own, he needed to take Peeta to the hair salon.  
  
Leslie Monroe owned a salon two doors down and lived above the shop. John knew her from high school and had frequented her shop with the boys since they first needed haircuts. He banged on the door until she came downstairs.  
  
"John, what are you …" but her eyes fell on Peeta, and she opened the door to let them in. She spent a half an hour, snipping at his hair evening it out as best she could but still it was evident that someone had cut his hair too close and she didn't want to shave his head. She gave him his usual sucker before she kissed the top of his head. Leslie had not said a word to John the entire time but now eyed him curiously. He paid her generously and left the salon carrying his little boy.  
  
"Peeta, I'm sorry that I didn't get to you sooner."  
  
"It's okay, Dad," Peeta answered while still hiccuping from his earlier tears. John set him down and reached in his backpack and pulled out his knit hat and put it on his head.  
  
"I'm going to ask Miss Trinket if it's okay for you to wear your hat for awhile," Peeta nodded. "After school today, I want you to go home with Katniss. I will make sure it's fine with her mom, okay?" Peeta brightened, it was only Thursday, maybe he would get an extra day away from his mother. He nodded quickly.  
  
They walked in silence the rest of the way to school. John was deep in thought as they entered the door nearest Peeta's room, class was just about ready to begin. Inside the room, John could see an anxious Katniss watching the door. Her face brightened upon seeing Peeta, but only for a moment as she realized something was wrong.  
  
Peeta went to his cubby, and John sought out Miss Trinket. A brief whispered conversation ensued and all at once Miss Trinket turned to the kids in the room. "Good news, children. We are going to have hat day for the next several days, so today, everyone can wear whatever hat they brought with them today. Tomorrow, you can bring a special hat." The kids cheered as hats were not allowed to be worn in school. Miss Trinket cast a sad look in Peeta's direction.  
  
John walked back to the bakery. His staff was already in place to handle the morning rush. He bypassed the store and went to the back, the home he shared with Cynthia. Their dwelling encompassed the entire upstairs, along with a good portion of what used to be the bakery and a new addition. John had remodeled after Derrick was born, and purchased the remaining property back to the alley so they would have a larger home. It was unconventional but beautiful.  
  
He walked in and saw the disarray from the morning breakfast still evident. John was at a loss. Over the course of five-and-a-half years, he had confronted Cynthia on a regular basis. Things were just starting to look like they were improving when suddenly she flipped. He sat down at the table, his head in his hands.  
  
"John?" He startled at the sound of her voice. Cynthia, her eyes red and puffy, was trying hard to affect the right tone of contrition as she stood in the door to the kitchen. "I'm sorry."  
  
John didn't bother to look up. Instead he said, "It's the boy who deserves an apology."  
  
Inwardly she cringed but didn't say anything in response.  
  
Finally, after waiting several seconds, John asked, "Why?"  
  
Cynthia knew why, but she would never reveal it. Not to John. "I don't know." She paused for effect. "I think I need help." She had said it before, and always for the same reason. No matter what, she couldn't lose John who was her only link to any kind of social standing in the small community. John looked skeptical. "I'll make the call right now." But she had no intention of actually seeking help.  
  
John heaved a heavy sigh. He was unsure what to do. Eventually he said, "Make sure you do," and got up and left the table and went back to the bakery.  
  
He called the Everdeen residence and made arrangements for them to watch Peeta for a few days. John could only imagine what Cynthia would say if she knew where Peeta had been going the past several weeks.  
  
Cynthia, meanwhile, sat in her kitchen justifying her actions in her mind. For the next year, she went out religiously at 10 o'clock every Tuesday and Thursday, supposedly for counseling, but in reality she just drove around aimlessly or sometimes to a larger center. It wouldn't be until years later when she was undergoing a court ordered evaluation that John would learn the truth.


	4. The Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Hunger Games characters are the property of Suzanne Collins.

Blake heard a small "Oooops" followed by a soft thud and turned around to find Peeta spread-eagle on the ground with his face in the snow. He quickly grabbed the shoulders of his jacket and uprighted the little boy.  
  
"I'm okay," Peeta said before anyone could inquire. "Must have been a root."   
  
Blake chuckled lightly. "Dang roots," he replied.  
  
"Yep, dang roots." Katniss was brushing the snow from Peeta as Blake stood by and observed. Katniss was not usually a patient person, especially when it came to "her" woods, but over the course of several weeks she had shown a patience far beyond her usual capacity.   
  
Peeta first joined them in the woods at Christmas time and had become a regular visitor since then. Blake loved the early Saturday morning walks with his little girl and generally chose a path that was semi-protected by the trees so that it was easier for her. That first morning, Katniss had taken it upon herself to inform Peeta of the importance of walking quietly in the woods.   
  
Whether it was inherent or learned, Katniss had a remarkably soft tread, not only in the woods but in the house as well. Peeta, on the other hand, had a tendency to sound like a small bull in a china closet when he moved. But, he had heeded her words and tried hard, and as a result, provided Blake with some interesting comic relief.  
  
During their first ramble in the woods, Peeta's little feet found every dry twig on the path. Each time he heard a snap, Peeta would freeze, arch his eyebrows and slap a hand over his mouth as if it was the offender. After several times, Katniss even began to chuckle at his predictable reaction.  
  
Sometime during the second walk, Blake realized it was notably quieter and looked over his shoulder to see Peeta trailing Katniss, stepping exactly where she stepped. Only his gait was not typical Peeta but rather looked as if he had stolen it from a cartoon, as he pulled his knees up high and stepped gingerly on just his toes. Neither child saw his glance so they were perplexed when he literally fell to the ground laughing.   
  
Still, Blake could not deny that he looked forward to his time with both children on the weekend, and would gladly have taken Peeta in full-time if allowed.  
  
Lately, Peeta seemed to have mastered the tread of the hunter but for some reason roots hidden under the leaves had a tendency to reach up and topple him over. Peeta was a trooper though, and never once shed a tear no matter how hard he hit the ground.   
  
In truth, Blake loved his time in the woods with the little ones. His Katniss was his pride and joy. Since she was a tiny baby strapped to his chest, he had taken her into his beloved woods. Jen had a hard time with pregnancies, and the doctor suggested strongly that Prim should be their last. They had agreed, although both had hoped for a boy to carry on the Everdeen name but Blake wouldn't trade his girls for a dozen boys.  
  
Peeta had come into his life at the perfect moment and had been accepted by all as a honorary family member. He marveled at the curiosity and intellect of the two children. Peeta would often stop Katniss on their treks and ask questions. He would listen intently as she thoroughly explained whatever it was he asked. Blake was proud of her and how well she knew the woods. She would point out paw prints in the snow or identify dried leaves laying off to the side. Peeta would listen with rapt attention, and later Katniss would quiz him like any good teacher.  
  
He loved the fact that his little girl had bonded so completely with her little friend. Both he and Jen had worried that maybe Katniss would be a loner in school but already she had Peeta and a little girl named Madge that she would talk about at end of day.  
  
"Let's sit for awhile," Blake said pointing to a fallen tree just off the path. The little ones nodded in agreement.  
  
"Kit? What would you like to do this afternoon?" Every weekend Blake liked to do things with his children to build memories for them that would carry into adulthood. He didn't realize it then but his time with his girls would be cut short, and that Katniss especially, would have to draw from the knowledge of their weekends together in order to survive those first difficult months after his passing.  
  
But for now, they were a happily content family and Peeta was, by extension, part of the family. Later on, when Peeta himself became a father, he would draw from his time with Blake and set aside the weekends for his family.  
  
"Ummm." Katniss said, working her mouth from side to side, her brow furrowing as she thought. "What do you want to do, Peety?"  
  
Peeta was overwhelmed at his good fortune to find himself in a family like the Everdeens. When he lay in the quiet of his own room, he dreamed that his mother would one day stroke his cheek like Jen did, and that his father would find time to play with him like Blake did.   
  
A few weeks before, Blake had taken the family to the big hill for sliding. Peeta had never slid down a hill before and there was a particular little thrill that shot through his stomach with each ride. Katniss had noticed some older kids sliding over a jump at the bottom of the hill that would send their sled airborne for several seconds. Being a bit of a daredevil, she begged Blake for the chance to take the inner-tube they were riding across the jump. Peeta was a little more reserved but ultimately would deny Katniss nothing.  
  
Eventually, Blake relented and lined up the inner-tube. Peeta and Katniss laid side-by-side on their tummies. The thrill was already turning his stomach upside down. They started their descent with Blake, Jen and even little Primmy cheering from the top. As they approached the jump, Peeta's eyes widened. All at once, the tube left the ground and Peeta and Katniss separated from it.   
  
As he flew through the air, Peeta felt like Superman. Blake could hear the piercing squeal from atop the hill and knew that it was not Katniss because her giggle could be heard as well. They landed head first in some fluffy snow, and mostly only their boots could be seen. Blake was already running down the slippery slope. From a distance he could see them emerge from the snow and he couldn't tell if they were laughing or crying, but once he was close he saw the two little faces, red with cold but laughing uproariously.  
  
"Again," Peeta said as Blake drew close, and Katniss nodded. They walked up the hill hand-in-hand and plunged once more toward the bump, enjoying a similar outcome.   
  
The previous week, they had made a snow family in the yard. Mommy, Daddy, Katniss, Primmy and of course, Peeta. The five snowmen stood in the front yard adorned in clothing to represent the family members.   
  
As Peeta sat there on the log, he remembered one thing he wanted to try but he wasn't accustomed to voicing his opinion. Katniss had told him of the snow fort she made the previous year and he wanted to make one with her. "Ummmm. Well, there's …" his voice dwindled as he looked between the father and daughter. Katniss nodded encouragingly. "Snow fort," he blurted, surprising himself.  
  
"Ohhhh, yesssss! Daddy, a snow fort? Please?" Blake grinned at Katniss and nodded.   
  
"Snow fort it is!" Both kids squealed.  
  
Surprisingly, Katniss was not at all jealous of Peeta's interactions with her father even though she was accustomed to mostly having him to herself. Quite the opposite, she was excited to share the day with both the "men" in her life. Truth be told, her dad and Peeta comprised two of her favorite people in the entire world. Her mom and Prim rounded out the four.  
  
They arrived home and since they lived at the end of the street, there was a virtual mountain of snow piled right near their house. Blake and the kids began digging and by lunch, had made a significant dent in the bank, hollowing out a large room made of snow. Jen called them to lunch, and all three arrived rosy cheeked with their hair plastered to their heads from sweat.   
  
"Mommy, we're making a snow fort and we can have hot chocolate out there this afternoon with you and Primmy!" Jen smiled and caught  Blake's eye. Prim was already in her high chair and Peeta joined Katniss in back the table. The transformation in the little boy since his first meal with them was remarkable, as he quickly joined in the conversation. Jen noticed that he never complained about the food, no matter what was set in front of him.  
  
After lunch he jumped up to do the dishes. "No Peeta," said Jen, who knew by now that she needed to find an alternative that sounded like work in order to get him to not do the dishes. "You have a snow fort to finish."  
  
He considered it for a moment, and then offered a single nod. Snow forts were important. Primmy joined them outside and all four spent the afternoon working on the fort. Well, Primmy mostly sat and watched, but the other two hauled buckets of snow out and helped with the digging. Mid-afternoon, Jen arrived with a thermos of hot chocolate and some old mugs, along with the rest of the cinnamon rolls that John had dropped off.   
  
Peeta was the first to try it, and Katniss followed suit. He dipped his roll in the hot chocolate and sucked the chocolate out of the bread. "Mmmm," they said at the same time, collapsing in a fit of giggles.  
  
That evening, the children sat at the table. Primmy played with blocks while Katniss wrote in the journal she got for Christmas. She enjoyed writing something every day, and would sometimes draw a small picture. Sometimes she sounded out the words, and other times asked her dad to spell the word. Peeta sat with his sketchbook open and was diligently drawing with his new set of colored pencils, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth.  
  
Blake was arranging photos in an album. He loved to take pictures of his family and more and more often, those pictures included little Peeta. He looked at each picture and sometimes would pass it to Jen who sat nearby. His grin broadened when he looked at one of the photos that showed the tiny heads of Katniss and Peeta peeking over the top of each shoulder and Primmy sitting in his lap. All the kids had beautiful smiles that reached their eyes.   
  
Blake studied the contrasting characteristics of Katniss and Peeta. Her eyes were silvery pools of gray, just like his own, while Peeta's eyes were the color of his father's. In fact, both children resembled their father's more than their mother's. Katniss was dark and Peeta was light. Her hair was black and wavy and his hair was blonde and curly. Well, getting back to curly. His hair had grown considerably since his "haircut."  
  
Katniss's voice drew him out of his reverie. "Peety, can you draw me a bunny?" He nodded as she handed him her journal.  
  
"Where do you want it?" He studied the page, and she pointed to the lower left. "What colors?" She picked out gray and brown, similar to the small rabbit they saw that morning. Peeta paused for a minute and then screwed his mouth up in concentration as he began to sketch. The little boy was undoubtedly gifted.  
  
After a few minutes, during which he added additional browns and grays to the mix along with black for the eyes, he had rendered a good representation of the rabbit from the morning.   
  
Katniss leaned close, and Blake noticed Peeta's cheeks darkening but he maintained his composure. "Can you draw snow?" Peeta thought for a moment and then chose his lightest grays and shaded an area until it looked like a snow bank caught in the shadows. "Now a tree, right there."  
  
Jen joined them at the table to watch as Peeta sketched. Eventually the scene was complete and it was a good rendering of the scene. "Now put your initials right there." So he did.  
  
"Peeta, that's wonderful," said Jen and he looked up embarrassed, running a hand through his hair.   
  
"Thanks," he said quietly.   
  
"Now, can you draw the snow fort?" Katniss asked as she flipped the page. Again he nodded, and thought for a moment before using the trees in the background to frame the outline of the snow mountain. He worked for several minutes and finally showed Katniss. "Oh Peeta, it's perfect." She wrapped an arm around his neck and hugged him tightly.   
  
Jen caught Blake's eyes, and shook her head slightly, a smile gracing her features.   
  
Later, while Blake was tucking the kids in, Jen happened across the photo of Blake with the three children. She sat with her chin in her hand for several seconds before tucking it away with plans to enlarge it as a gift for Father's Day, eventhough it was still months away. When she did finally give it to him, tears welled in his eyes even as he smiled.   
  
The framed photo sat on his desk for over six years and later provided the centerpiece for the memorial table at his funeral — Blake and his kids.


	5. The Perils of Being Snowbound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Hunger Games characters are the property of Suzanne Collins.

Peeta sat on the top stair, one hand gripping an ice bag while the other swiped roughly at the fat tears rolling down his face. It was a Friday. Fridays were supposed to be perfect but this Friday was far from it.  
  
It had been a bad day from the moment that Peeta's older brother Derrick landed on his bed with an excited squeal. "Hey Peet, wake up!" He shook his little brother, whose eyes popped open as he sat up, ready to head off to school. Peeta loved school but only for one reason — Katniss Everdeen. He never missed school, no matter what.  
  
The previous Friday, Peeta awakened with a bad sore throat but he went to school anyway. By the time Jen Everdeen picked him and Katniss up, Peeta was running a temp of 102 degrees. She called John and he couldn't get away from the bakery, so she took Peeta to urgent care and discovered he had strep throat.  
  
Katniss was already exposed, so the doctor prescribed medicine for both knowing it was only a matter of time before she developed the symptoms. Jen stopped at the pharmacy and picked up his medicine, tissues, cough drops, juice and two books she thought might appeal to a little boy. Then she brought the children home, stuck Peeta in the tub and then dressed him in his warmest pjs, and tucked him in bed.  
  
A short time later, Katniss climbed into bed, also in her pjs, and laid down next to him. Jen brought them soup on little trays and gave him his medicine, then rubbed cherry vapor rub on his chest. Peeta had never experienced that level of care when he was sick and his little body yearned for it.  
  
The next day, Katniss had developed the same sore throat, so they spent the day in their jammies, on the couch watching TV or playing "quiet games" with Blake on the floor. By the time Sunday evening rolled around, Peeta was feeling just about perfect again. But that was last Friday.  
  
After he successfully awakened his little brother, Derrick informed him that school was two hours later, and if they were lucky, school would be cancelled outright. Peeta felt certain that with his luck, school would, in fact, be cancelled. After all, he had never had too much good luck at all. He decided to get dressed anyway, just in case.  
  
While Peeta waited, he double-checked his overnight bag. He already had clothes at the Everdeen's as Blake had steadily increased his wardrobe and Peeta preferred the clothes that were kept there. His overnight bag included some "essentials" like his sketchpad and colored pencils, an extra pair of gloves, hat and scarf. But it was the ragged teddy bear that was most essential. It had taken awhile for Peeta to work up the nerve to bring him with but Katniss had immediately understood.  
  
Three weeks ago, Peeta had hastily pulled Mr. Bear from his bag, hoping to tuck him in Katniss's bed before she saw him. But again, his luck had never been good and she saw the old brown bear before he could hide him away. It wasn't that Peeta needed the bear, it was that the bear was probably lonely spending a whole weekend without Peeta.  
  
Katniss had taken the bear from his hands and inspected him closely. "He's a nice teddy bear, Peeta," said Katniss diplomatically, as she ignored the missing eye and the tiny tear that showed his stuffings.  
  
"Thanks," said Peeta, eyeing her nervously.  
  
"He looks like he could use a good doctor, though." Peeta's eyebrows shot up at the revelation. He had wanted to fix the tear but he was too little to work a needle and thread. Before he could respond, Katniss dashed from the room. "Come on, Peety."  
  
The pair thundered downstairs where Jen sat patching a hole in Blake's jeans. "Mama. This is …." she looked at Peeta questioningly.  
  
"Mr. Bear," he whispered.  
  
"Right. Mr. Bear and he could use a good doctor."  
  
"Oh my. It looks like it. Let me see what I can do, sir." She glanced at Peeta who stared in amazement. Some days he couldn't quite believe that his luck had actually brought him to the Everdeen's. Maybe his luck was not so bad after all.  
  
A half hour later, Jen called them back and not only was the rip neatly sewn shut, but she had replaced his eye as well. Peeta was so overwhelmed he hugged the bear and then Jen, and finally Katniss. Just because he liked to hug her.  
  
Since then, Mr. Bear slept between the two little ones whenever they shared a bed. Many years later, a real baby would find a similar place between them but for now they were content with the ragged bear.  
  
But on this particular day, the snow fell and soon Derrick returned even more thrilled than the last time. "School's cancelled, Peet!" Upon hearing the announcement, Peeta ran his hand roughly through his hair. How would he get to Katniss's house now?  
  
He took one last look out his bedroom window at the snow piling up on the street below. Peeta gathered up his bag and headed downstairs. His mother was up but she was making herself scrambled eggs and didn't notice her youngest walk past on his way to the bakery.  
  
"Dad?" John turned to him.  
  
"Hey, Peeta." John noticed his overnight bag gripped in his hand.  
  
"I'm ready to go," Peeta said, exuding a note of finality hoping that his father would shrug his way into his coat and take him to the car.  
  
"Not today, Peeta. It's storming outside and we just have to sit tight." Peeta fought hard to not cry, but he wasn't succeeding very well. Hot tears ran down his face. "Oh Peeta, I know you look forward to Fridays with little Katniss, but not today. We can't go out. It's too dangerous. You stick close by me today okay, and maybe I can take you over tomorrow if it's okay with the Everdeen's."  
  
Peeta dried his tears with his sleeve and looked up at his dad. "Okay. Tomorrow then. It'll be okay. I know it will be."  
  
John smiled at his little son that he barely spent time with anymore. "Come on, Peeta. You're getting behind in your baking lessons." The rest of the morning was spent side by side, working with his dad. In spite of everything, his dad was still his hero and Peeta listened carefully as he instructed on cracking eggs and sifting flour. Peeta turned out to be a natural.  
  
They stopped for lunch at noon, and that was mistake number one for the pair. Peeta and his dad went into the kitchen, and Cynthia was already at the stove working on lunch. John had been hopeful that things would change since she had started counseling. Unfortunately, it would be many years before he knew the truth of the farce she routinely carried out. Since the incident several weeks prior, she had maintained her distance from the little boy and allowed a stiff smile whenever John mentioned him.  
  
Today, though, it was the sound of Peeta's voice that set her on edge. She was making soup for herself and the older two boys when she heard Peeta, "Mother, what are you making for lunch?" and that was the second mistake. He wasn't being demanding, or whiney — merely enquiring. But it didn't matter. She had kept her comments to herself for much too long, and she could barely contain herself.  
  
"Nothing for you, PEETA," she said his last name like a curse word, and Peeta shrank back from her.  
  
John was at his side immediately, shielding him from his mother as he was standing much too close given the fact that she was in proximity to a kettle of hot liquid. "Here, Peeta, I will make us some lunch," he said as he started for the refrigerator.  
  
"There's plenty for you, John," Cynthia said as she looked at him pointedly making it clear that the only one she didn't want to feed was their youngest.  
  
"Then, there's plenty for Peeta, as I don't intend to eat anything other than a sandwich." It was the final straw in Cynthia's mind. She had the older two boys underfoot all morning while John puttered in the bakery with Peeta, and now he was forcing her into a situation that only made her angry. She narrowed her eyes, John's fault. It was John's fault for not recognizing that she just did not want to expend energy on the little brat.  
  
She slammed the wooden spoon down on the stove. "Fine, you want to feed him, then go ahead. GO AHEAD, JOHN. Feed the spoiled brat. Why isn't he at his friend's house where he OUGHT TO BE? WHY?" Both of the older boys were wide-eyed watching their mother yell at their father. Peeta was now clinging to the back of his father's legs hoping to shield himself from his mother's wrath.  
  
Suddenly she moved, and quick as a cat she grabbed Peeta's overnight bag. Peeta's eyes grew wide. His precious colored pencils were in there. He couldn't lose them a second time. But it was not the pencil case that her hand landed on. It was Mr. Bear. She pulled it from the confines of the bag, her face contorted in anger.  
  
"Look what you are raising, John. A sissy. A little girl. Still needs to bring his teddy bear to a sleepover. Isn't that precious." Her voice was saccharin. With that she held the bear up by his head and ripped. Peeta gasped, and then cried out and ran forward. She laughed as he struggled to free the remainder of his teddy bear from her grasp. That was his third mistake.  
  
"See, Peeta, Mother is trying to make you into a man." She bent low and pulled at the bear again, this time his paw coming free and her hand slamming into Peeta's cheek in the process. She stopped. The room was silent. She dropped the remains of the bear on the floor and Peeta stooped quickly to pick up the head, paw and what was left of the body. Then he rushed to grab his bag and settled back behind his father.  
  
Cynthia's chest heaved and she wondered why Peeta always forced her hand. Why did he always force her to retaliate in this way? Tears of frustration and anger fell from her eyes and she hoped that John would see them as tears of repentance. He usually did.  
  
John stood absolutely still, not knowing how the peaceful morning had ended in such chaos. "Go lie down, Cynthia," he finally said trying to diffuse any remaining anger.  
  
She lowered her voice, and dipped her chin, overall an excellent actress. "Thank you. I should probably take my medicine." Cynthia turned back toward the bedroom. Her statement was part of another farce that she had perpetuated since Peeta's birth. There was no medication, but it was convenient because it generally mustered John's sympathy for whatever ailment she suffered as a result of giving birth to their youngest.  
  
John hoisted Peeta onto the cupboard and examined his cheek which was red now but would likely turn black and blue. It was the first time in months that she had left this kind of mark, so John hoped things were improving. "Okay, little guy, Daddy is going to get some ice for you to put on that." Peeta nodded. He knew the drill. "I don't think Mother meant to do that, okay?" But even as John said the words, he couldn't be sure.  
  
John set the soup on the table, and the four ate in silence. Derrick periodically glanced sideways at his little brother who refused to give up his hold on his bag which now includes the remains of his bear.  
  
Peeta sat quietly sipping his soup, wishing it was an ordinary Friday and hoping he would be allowed to go to the Everdeen's soon as Mr. Bear was in dire need of a doctor now. When he was finished, his father told him to go upstairs and wait, and so he did.  
  
An hour or so later, he heard steps below and stiffened in anticipation for another round with his mother but it was his father. "Come on down, Peeta." He quickly made his way downstairs and his father lead him to the entry where his winter clothes were hung. He helped Peeta into his snow pants and boots. Before he grabbed his jacket, John looked at Peeta and then grasped his shoulders tightly.  
  
"I love you, son. I do. I wish things were different. You know that, right?" Peeta nodded and his father pulled him close for a hug before helping him with his coat, mittens and scarf. All bundled up with only his eyes peeking out, John led him to the front.  
  
"Hey, Peeta!" It was Blake's voice and he cocked his head to look up into the face of the tall, dark-haired man. Beneath the scarf he smiled broadly. "Katniss was pretty put out with the storm. Kind of ruined her weekend plans if you couldn't be with us, so I knew I should probably get over here and see if you could join us. Looks like you're ready!" Peeta gave a nod of affirmation, relief flooding him.  
  
"Oh, Dad, my bag."  
  
"Right here, son," John's voice caught. He was doing what was best in his mind and that was letting someone else care for his little boy. John loved all his boys, but there was something special about his youngest and he regretted not being able to protect him better in his own home. He bent and pulled him in for a hug, "I love you."  
  
"I love you too, Dad."  
  
John stood up and reached out his hand to Blake. It was the first such gesture of friendship and Blake quickly grasped it in his own. They had never been particularly friendly in view of how things worked out, so there was a huge irony that Blake provided a weekend home for his little boy. "Thank you!"  
  
"You're welcome, John. It's really our pleasure though." One last shake of their hands, and Blake ushered the little boy out the door.  
  
John followed them and watched as Blake lifted him into the carseat in the four-wheel-drive pickup. He let out a relieved sigh as they pulled away from the curb and headed down the street.  
  
As promised, Blake called a few minutes later to let them know they arrived safely. As John hung up, he knew he had done the right thing in calling Blake to pick his little Peeta up. He looked around the bakery at the yet unfinished cupcakes they were working on before lunch. He felt an emptiness as he considered another weekend without Peeta.  
  
In time, Peeta would become a consistent presence in the bakery, but less so in his home. He would have the joys of watching Peeta in Little League with Blake as his coach. He would enjoy watching his first attempts to wrestle, and later his rise to stardom on the football field. But in so many ways, he lost out on the day to day joys of just being Peeta's dad.


	6. The Cake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hunger Games characters belong to Suzanne Collins.

Katniss sat in the middle in her car seat next to Peeta's, leaving Blake just enough room to squeeze behind the wheel. Jen was busy cleaning the house, and asked him to take Katniss and Peeta out while he ran his errands.  
  
He enjoyed having them along and never realized what a chatterbox his little girl was until she had the talkative Peeta with her. Today, she was playing her favorite game of switching the radio on and off quickly and then turning to Peeta, "Name that tune!" Apparently, she had seen episodes of the old show at some point.  
  
The first time they played, Peeta was confused and actually tried to name the right tune. Now that he had caught on, he would blurt out whatever tune came to his mind. Katniss flipped the knob and a few notes of a mournful country ballad filled the cab of the truck. "Peeta, can you name that tune?"  
  
"Yes, Katniss, I can name that tune. It's 'Mary had a Little Lamb!'"  
  
"You are … CORRECT!"  
  
Blake couldn't help the loud guffaw that escaped him as it was clearly one of Patsy Cline's greatest hits, "Sweet Dreams of You." Still, he couldn't help casting a sideways glance at the little boy whose cheeks were a rosy shade of red.  
  
"Ready?" Peeta nodded solemnly. "Okay." She flipped the knob, changed stations, and they got a three second clip of some hard rock song Blake didn't remember the name of. Peeta guessed, "Farmer in the Dell."  
  
Three more songs later, and "correct" guesses on his part, left Peeta absolutely beaming. Sometimes his answers would reduce Katniss to a fit of giggles like when he guessed "The Cuppycake Song," to what was obviously a classical piece by Mozart but most of the time she maintained just the right level of excitement and seriousness to pull off her role as hostess of the show.  
  
Blake slowed down and nosed into a parking space, pushing his truck into park. "All right kiddos! Are you ready?"  
  
"Ready!" they exclaimed in unison but then Peeta glanced out the window and noticed they were parked in front of the bakery. He visibly stiffened.  
  
"I … am I … I mean … it's Saturday, right? Am I going home?" Sometimes, it was tough for Peeta to remember he had a home other than the Everdeens on the weekend but  the sight of the bakery was an unwelcome reminder.  
  
Katniss looked at her father in a panic. She was pretty certain her dad would have mentioned something if Peeta had to go home early, but still she wanted confirmation.  
  
"Nope, Peeta, you're not going home yet. We still have lots to do," Peeta was relieved. "It's Primmy's second birthday today! We are going to pick up her cake." He stepped from the pickup and headed around the front to open the door. He helped them over the small snowbank by the curb and settled them on the sidewalk. Katniss reached for Blake's hand while Peeta reached for her free hand. Blake noticed that he still looked apprehensive as they walked toward the front door.  
  
"Oh, look at all the cakes!" Katniss squealed, as they passed the display in the front window.  
  
Peeta smiled a bit wistfully, "My dad decorates the cakes. He's going to teach me someday because I'm a good drawer."  
  
Blake couldn't help but smile. It wasn't a boastful statement, just an accurate assessment of his talents. He was definitely gifted and you could already see it. He opened the door and the bell jingled loudly. Peeta's oldest brother, JJ was behind the counter.  
  
"Good morning," he greeted studiously before his eyes flickered in Peeta's direction and instantaneous recognition took over, "Hey Peet!" He greeted his little brother. "Is this your girlfriend?"  
  
Neither Peeta nor Katniss caught the meaning behind the words, as Peeta stepped forward proudly, "Yes," he nodded agreeably. "This is Katniss and her dad, Blake." JJ held out his hand, and Blake was impressed at the manners of both boys. "This is my brother, JJ."  
  
Katniss scrutinized the teenager in front of her. She wasn't particularly fond of teenagers who mostly teased her and pulled her braids, but JJ looked like an older version of Peeta, so she greeted him with a small "Hello."  
  
"Hi," JJ responded, as John rounded the corner.  
  
"Blake! Here for the cake?" Blake nodded as he looked at the display of breads, muffins, cupcakes, cookies and rolls.  "Hey, Peeta!" He rushed forward and scooped up the little boy who promptly wrapped his arms around his neck.  
  
"Hi, Dad!" Peeta drew his head back and looked at the door that John had just passed through. "Is Mother here?"  
  
John shook his head, "No, she went to the big city today with her friends." Peeta nodded.  
  
"Can I show Katniss around?"  
  
John cocked an eyebrow in Blake's direction and he nodded. "Sure, Peeta, go ahead." After the two little ones bounded through the door to the kitchen, John turned to JJ, "Could you get the duck cake for me, son?" JJ nodded and headed to the back leaving the two men standing awkwardly out front.  
  
Blake cleared his throat. He could count on one hand the number of times he had been to the bakery since he and Jen got married. "Uh, so, Cynthia is … gone today?" John nodded. "I, uh John, I don't mean to interfere, but … you know Peeta," Blake shifted on his feet. "You know  the haircut, and then last week his bear along with the mark on his cheek, and well, I just don't know what to think anymore."  
  
They could hear the excited voice of Peeta in the back showing off the sacks of flour and urging Katniss to climb to the top. John ran a hand over his face, and huffed out a sigh. "Blake, look, most of the time she's fine around him, you know. She's … just … sometimes  …" John looked at Blake with more than a hint of desperation. "Bottom line, Blake, is that Cynthia is not happy. I … we … I've made a lot of mistakes, Blake and obviously, they have far reaching effects."  
  
Blake was momentarily surprised by John's words. It would seem that he took responsibility for his wife's actions, and Blake was not entirely comfortable with that. "John, he's a little boy … he …," but his words were cut off by JJ's reappearance.  
  
The duck cake was spectacular. It was large and sat up off the plate. "It's a two layer," said John, "the head and tail are mostly frosting." The result was a very realistic replica of a rubber duck.  
  
"Ohhhh, it's perfect! Primmy will love it. Her first store bought birthday cake." Blake held it up and admired it before placing it on the counter and pulling his wallet from his back pocket.  
  
"No, Blake, your money's no good in here."  
  
"John … ."  
  
"No, Blake, you have no idea how much I owe you for everything you've done for Peeta. I know that he lives for his weekends with you and Jen, and I can't thank you enough."  
  
"Not us, John. Katniss. He lives for the weekends with Katniss, and she for her weekends with him." John grinned in return. "I still don't know quite what to think. I wonder if they will outgrow each other, or someone else will get in their way. It could be a heartbreak for one of them."  
  
"Something tells me Peeta is not stupid like his father and Katniss seems to think he's something special too," John said, with a touch of sadness. Unspoken was the fact that he had been foolish where Jen was concerned and ultimately lost her.  
  
As if on cue, the little ones reentered the bakery. Peeta, flushed with a smudge of flour on his nose, held tight to Katniss's hand. It would be a scene oft repeated in future years, although the reason for the Peeta's flush would change.  
  
"I showed her all around," Peeta said proudly, and that made his father smile. John took pride in the fact that his youngest son wanted to show off the bakery to "his girl."  
  
"Daddy, they have stacks and stacks of flour in the back. We climbed up top." Katniss was smiling widely, but Peeta  looked worried at her admission. He knew the bags of flour were off limits for climbing, but his father was just chuckling about it. Years later, Peeta and Katniss would put the bags to the test in much different way, but for now, all was innocent play.  
  
"Well, we had better get going," said Blake, and Katniss and Peeta dutifully began pulling on hat and mittens.  
  
"Just wait, before you go, each of you can pick out a treat," said John, waving a hand in the direction of the display cases. "Be sure to pick one out for Jen and Primmy too."  
  
Blake was about to object, but he saw the look on John's face and knew he could not deny him this opportunity to treat the youngsters. God knew he had bought Peeta a lot over the past weeks. His home looked like he had three children, one of them a boy.

The little ones were standing in front of the display cases as Peeta described each of the delights to Katniss — bear claws and chocolate angels, eclairs and Bavarian cream rolls.  
  
"Which one are you gonna have?" asked Katniss.  
  
"Hmm," said Peeta, "I don't know." He ran his hand through his hair, most of the treats he had never been permitted to eat unless he was alone with his father. "The cupcakes are good." He had firsthand knowledge of them.  
  
"I think I will have a cupcake," Katniss said, deferring to his judgement. "One for Primmy too."  
  
"Me too," said Peeta.  
  
"Put one in for Jen too."  
  
John picked up a box and put a dozen cupcakes in, and then filled a bag with a variety of rolls, and passed it across.  
  
"Oh, that's too much," said Blake, reaching for his wallet.  
  
"Nope, it's worth it to me to see his face." John knew he would have to take cash from his own wallet to cover the purchases because Cynthia was a stickler for inventory, but he was glad to do it. He looked across the counter at his small son whose smile warmed his heart.  
  
Blake carried the cake, Katniss the bag of rolls and Peeta the box of cupcakes as they left the bakery. "Bye Dad!" Peeta called cheerfully over his shoulder.  
  
"Bye son!" John replied. He would never stand in the way of his little son's happiness but it hurt to see him leaving with Blake. John worried that he might very well lose Peeta to Blake just as he lost Jen. He rushed forward and caught up to them before they got to the truck. "Uh, Blake, maybe some day when Cynthia is out of town, the kids could come here and I'll teach them how to bake." Blake could see the earnestness in John's eye. He knew John did not want to miss out on time with his little boy.

"I bet they would like that. Let's figure it out." John's smile was the mirror of Peeta's as he reached to shake Blake's hand.

Blake lifted  the little ones into his vehicle and carefully set their baked goods on the floor.  Two more stops and they were ready to head home. When they arrived, the house was clean and Primmy was up from a much needed morning nap. Jen was overwhelmed at the sight of the cake. They held Primmy up and she clapped her hands wildly.  
  
Peeta stood by, a big smile on his face, proud that his dad had contributed to the excitement in the Everdeen household. Katniss was also smiling and looked at her little friend, "I bet you've had some really wonderful birthday cakes, Peeta."  
  
"Uhh, no, actually I've never had a cake," Peeta said simply. "Usually, Dad gets me up early for a cupcake though, and they're really good." Jen's mouth dropped when she realized that the small son of the baker had never had a birthday cake.  "But you know," Peeta continued, "JJ's cake last month was perfect. Dad made it look like a wrestler with the colors and everything." There was no jealousy or malice in his voice. Peeta was merely recounting the facts of his life but even Katniss understood the meaning behind his words.  
  
"Peeta," Jen said, and Peeta looked to her. "If I remember correctly, you and Katniss were born a day apart. Your birthday is May 7, right?" Peeta nodded. "Well, Katniss's is May 8, and maybe we will do a celebration together." As the words slipped from her mouth, she worried that she had not spoken to Katniss first but the look on her little girl's face said it all.  
  
Katniss was smiling wider than she had seen her smile before. "Hear that, Peety? We can have a party together." She hugged him tightly.  
  
Peeta was beside himself. A party was unheard of, but a party with Katniss was beyond anything he could have imagined. He hugged her back. Despite the fact that their birthdays were still months off, they began excitedly planning as they helped Jen decorate for Primmy's party.  



	7. The Gesture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hunger Games characters belong to Suzanne Collins.

"Just a second, Katniss, you need to level it off," Peeta patiently explained as he used his chubby, flour-covered hand to push his white baker hat off his forehead.  
  
"What do you mean, Peety?" Katniss was legitimately confused because this was her first baking experience.  
  
"Ummm," Peeta hesitated. "Flour can't be … I mean flour needs to be … ." He used his hand to demonstrate "level." He's a little frustrated to by his inability to fully explain the terms he grew up with and were inherent to him. "Here, let me show you." Peeta took the measuring cup and a butter knife, and quickly leveled off the cup of flour.  
  
"Oh," said Katniss, "you mean, 'level off.'" Peeta nodded agreeably even though he was confused at what the difference was between what he said and what she said.  
  
He handed the measuring cup to her and she quickly dumped it in the bowl, causing a small flour storm to erupt over the bowl, adding more white dust to their faces. As they stared at one another, they began to giggle and point.  
  
"Hey, what are you two laughing about?" the booming voice of John, interrupted the two giggling children, but his smile gave away his joy at having the two of them sitting atop the counter making cookies together.  
  
"Kat-Kat-Katniss dumped the flour and she looks like a ghost!" Peeta declared through his fit of giggles.  
  
"Looks to me like you are both pretty ghost-like, Little Man." Peeta beamed at the use of his nickname in front of Katniss, as he swiped his hand across his face exacerbating the problem. John joined in the laughter and wondered how long it had been since he heard his youngest son so carefree.  
  
Blake dropped Katniss and Peeta off early that morning. At first Peeta was tentative, but his father put him at ease by allowing him to show Katniss around once more and then focussing on some of his son's favorites.  
  
John was impressed that the little guy remembered the recipe for cupcakes and watched in delight as he instructed Katniss to turn on the large mixer which spattered batter on their clothes and in their hair, which subsequently lead to the first round of laughter.  
  
Now, the two were surrounded by creations they had made together with minimal intervention by John. The cupcakes were decorated with lumps of frosting interpreted by Katniss to be flowers. Peeta had added some pretty impressive leaves which made the cupcake appear "almost" normal.  
  
Next, the pair tackled tiny blueberry pies, and Peeta was the definite leader with Katniss mimicking his every move. Peeta demonstrated how to knead and roll the dough and Katniss followed enthusiastically. She even went so far as to copy the way his tongue slipped from his mouth as he concentrated.  
  
They were presently working together on chocolate chip cookies. So far none of the treats were worthy of the display case, but John wouldn't have traded the experience for a case full of perfectly-formed delicacies.  
  
His attention was drawn back to the pair as Katniss watched Peeta expertly crack an egg. "Now you try." Katniss lifted the egg and gave it a mighty whack on the side of the bowl, crushing the side and dropping shell fragments into the mix. She was mortified, but Peeta quickly came to the rescue, dipping his finger in to retrieve the fragments. "It's okay," he said soothingly. "It might just be a little crunchy."  
  
John chuckled slightly as he watched Peeta patiently extract the shell bits from the dough. "I think I ruined it," Katniss lamented.  
  
Peeta shook his head emphatically. "No you didn't, Katniss. Nobody is a good egg breaker right from the start," he consoled. But in truth, Peeta was a natural. He knew just the right pressure to apply to crack it without crushing it. Of all his sons, John felt that Peeta was born to be a baker.  
  
Katniss sat back on her heels and watched him work. "How long have you been baking, Peeta?"  
  
"Uh …" he thought. "I guess all my life."  
  
"It can't be all your life, Peeta," the ever so logical Katniss answered. "You were a baby part of the time." He blushed deeply and smiled sheepishly at her.  
  
"Well, now, Katniss, he's not too far off," John interjected. "Peeta was just three-days-old when I first brought him to the bakery with me."  
  
"Three-days-old?" Katniss stared at Peeta incredulously.  
  
"Yep," John said, popping the "p". He wouldn't tell them that he was too fearful to leave baby Peeta at home with his mother. "I used to carry him around in a little wrap around my front, and Peeta used to watch me knead dough, and drop cookies, and decorate cakes." Peeta was blushing furiously now. "All of his baby firsts were right here."  
  
John walked over to the large wood table in the center. "One day I laid him down here and he flipped right over from his tummy to his back. After that, I had to lay him on a blanket on the floor. He learned to sit up over here in the corner where I stretched his blanket. He crawled from there to over here." John was lost in the nostalgia of the moment. Years later, he would reminisce in the same way on the eve of their wedding as he recalled their first day in the bakery.  
  
Peeta had never heard any tales from when he was little. His mother sometimes went on and on about the cuteness of JJ or Derrick, but never a word about him so he sat enraptured by his father.  
  
"I made special biscuits for Peeta when he was teething, and he used to chew on them until they were just spitty little nubs," Katniss giggled. She knew all about teething as she remembered what happened when Prim was teething. One of her Lincoln logs would never be the same after helping Primmy's teeth break through the surface.  
  
"His first word was  'Daddy' plain as day, and his next was 'tootie' for cookie. 'Daddy tootie,' he would say, and of course, I would give him a cookie. I started calling him 'Tootie Monster.'" Katniss literally squealed with delight as she looked at the crimson face of Peeta. "Just after he started walking, which happened in here too, I put him to work helping me. I even got him a little apron, just like me." Katniss turned to look at Peeta's pint-sized apron that fit him perfectly with a "Mellark's Bakery" logo on the front.  
  
"By the time he was four, he knew all the ingredients for all the things we are making today. Only he knew them in measurements for bakery quantity." For the first time, John realized just how much of a baker his little son was as he managed to pare down the ingredients to a family-sized portion relying solely on appearance and texture, and still taste decent. "So you see, Katniss, Peeta has baked most all his life."  
  
Katniss appraised Peeta with sharp eyes as he finished measuring the final ingredients. "It's good, Peeta, that you are a baker," she said seriously as he raised his eyes to her. "When we grow up and move to the cabin, we'll need food."  
  
He nodded happily as she reaffirmed their plans for the future. "Brownies and cupcakes, right?" Katniss smiled and nodded. "I could make cheese buns and other things, too."  
  
"I love cheese buns," Katniss agreed enthusiastically. Peeta grinned widely.  
  
"You two are planning to live together when you grow up?" John asked and Peeta looked up worriedly, wondering if his father was familiar with the rule about living together.  
  
"Yep," Katniss said confidently. "Peety and me will live in the cabin my daddy built and he'll bake and I'll hunt, and we'll sleep in bunk beds. I'll have the top bunk and Peety will sleep in the bottom bunk." She added this last part so that Peeta's father would understand the arrangement was purely friendship.  
  
"I see," he raised his hand to his mouth attempting to cover the smile that was threatening. "Sounds like you two have it all worked out. I'm surprised you don't want to get married." He was chuckling now.  
  
"Oh no, Dad," Peeta interjected quickly. "Katniss doesn't want to get married ever, so we'll just live together." John raised his eyebrows. "We won't be sharing a bed so it won't be a sin," he added, remembering Delly's earlier admonishment.  
  
John cleared his throat. "Well, Peeta, it seems that you two have it all planned out." A part of him doubted the friendship would last through elementary, but a larger part tugged inside that it might be far closer to reality than he suspected. And it was. The pair did, of course, grow up and move to the cabin where they did eat brownies and cupcakes and cheese buns. Katniss did hunt and Peeta did bake but the bunk bed in the small room was never used. Whereas, the old double bed in the larger room received a sound workout each evening.  
  
The only difference was in Katniss's change of heart regarding marriage. After a few years of living together, she gladly accepted Peeta's proposal. Delly would be a bridesmaid. In spite of her words on the playground that day, she lived with her boyfriend Darius — also without the assistance of bunk beds.  
  
John helped Peeta and Katniss drop the cookies on a cookie sheet and popped them in the oven. Together, they went back to the kitchen and made grilled cheese sandwiches and soup. Peeta quickly cleaned off the table as was his usual chore whenever he was at home. What surprised John though, was Katniss, who quickly joined to help him.  
  
After lunch, the trio went back to the bakery where Peeta directed Katniss in the art of making donuts. Peeta rolled the dough and then gently pushed the cutter in. Afterward, he carefully pulled the donut from the dough and passed it on to his father. He repeated the process several times, and then passed the rolling pin to Katniss.  
  
She was clearly not a natural. Katniss pushed her tongue to the corner of her mouth and rolled the rolling pin across the dough but the dough rode right over the top of the rolling pin and clung stubbornly to its surface. She pried it off and reached for more flour spreading it generously on the rolling pin as well the surface of the dough.  
  
John hid his smile as he watched the scene unfold. To his credit, Peeta never cracked a grin as he watched his friend struggle. Eventually, she managed to get the dough somewhat even, and quickly plunged the cutter in several times. Katniss had noticed that the process was slow and even if she was not perfect, she was efficient and determined to be quicker than Peeta. Unfortunately, before John could intervene, she managed to cut the sides off several donuts.  
  
"Oops," she whispered as she noticed the havoc she wreaked on the unsuspecting dough.  
  
"Just a sec," Peeta said, as he positioned himself behind her and reached for the rolling pin. He pressed himself tight to her back and motioned for her hands to grip the rolling pin, then he placed his hands on top. Together they rolled, and then Peeta helped her cut and remove each donut. "There," he said, "you did it perfectly."  
  
"I did not," Katniss protested, "you did."  
  
But Peeta shook his head and handed her more dough. This time, following Peeta's gentle guidance, the process went a lot better and all of her donuts looked acceptable. John quickly fried them and then began packaging all of the treats for the two little ones to take home.  
  
Blake arrived a short time later, ready to pick them up and take them home. John swallowed a lump as he watched the two little ones excitedly tell Blake all about their day. Katniss pulled his hand and guided him to the counter. "Daddy, we made cupcakes, pies, cookies and donuts. Next time, we get to make cheese buns."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yes, and guess what, Daddy. Peeta's been baking his entire life."  
  
"Isn't that something," Blake said as he pulled Katniss into his arms for a hug and patted Peeta's head. "Better get your coats on." The pair quickly complied, running to the other room.  
  
"They were good then?" Blake questioned.  
  
"Perfect. Thanks Blake, I enjoyed it very much. I'd like to do it again some time." Blake nodded. "You think it's going to last?"  
  
"What? The friendship?"  
  
"They plan to live together when they grow up?"  
  
"So I heard," Blake said with a grin. "Hard to say, but I got a feeling they are settling in for the long haul. I guess maybe we should get used to it now." It was John's turn to nod. In a rare gesture, Blake extended his hand. "Maybe we ought to take a page from our children's book. Friends?" John grasped his hand and shook it firmly.  
  
Just then Peeta and Katniss burst out of the back room. Peeta flung himself into his father's arms and said goodbye. Katniss, on the other hand, held out her tiny hand and bid him goodbye in an almost-adult fashion. Just as she was about to turn, he scooped her up and held her close. He had never had the opportunity to hold a little girl.  
  
"Thank you for coming today, Katniss."  
  
"You're welcome, Mr. Mellark."  
  
"Call me John, okay?" Katniss nodded. "Take care of Peeta for me, okay."  
  
"I will. Because that's what we do. We take care of each other." Impulsively, she hugged him quickly before he set her down.  
  
John watched as Blake gathered the boxes and held out his hand for Katniss to grab, as she grabbed Peeta's with her free hand.  
  
"See you tomorrow, son."  
  
"See you, Dad."  
  
The bell jingled as they exited. John wandered to the window and watched his little boy animatedly describe something as Blake lifted him into his truck. He felt just the slightest twinges of jealousy. Not only did Blake have Jen and a perfect family, but he had his little boy as well. Over the years, the feeling would come and go, sometimes fairly strongly. But on the day Blake was buried, John kneeled beside the fresh grave and wept as if he had lost his best friend — and maybe he had.  



	8. The Campout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hunger Games characters belong to Suzanne Collins.

"Just a second, almost got it," the strained voice of Peeta broke the silence, as the back half of the pup tent swayed. Katniss had already forced her side of the frame in place and was now standing at the entrance with her hands on her hips, peering back inside as the tent continued to move precariously. "Th-th-there," Peeta grunted. "See, all done." 

Suddenly a loud snap sent the back half of the tent crashing down on top of his head. "Ooops!"

Blake was crouched down lighting a fire as he watched the two children erecting their tent. The latest calamity sent him sprawling backwards onto the ground as he laughed. The bright orange tent still stood proud at the entrance but the back half was draped over the shape of the little boy who was still struggling with the framework.

"Peeta, I'm coming in to help, move out of the way," Katniss said with authority, as she pressed inside. 

"Your daughter," Blake managed as he sat up to watch the continuation of the saga unfolding. 

"Your daughter," Jen said, giving him a nudge that nearly sent him sprawling again. "I don't think I've ever talked to a man that way in my life."

Blake nodded knowing that Katniss got at least part of her personality from him. She had a tendency to exude confidence regardless of the situation, and that was one of his traits.

The tent was starting to take shape again as they heard Katniss issuing short, terse instructions to Peeta. Eventually, the framework was in place, and the two emerged. Peeta was sweating, but Katniss still looked fresh.

"It was just that one brace, Peety. You have to really force it into place."

"Guess so," he said as he looked back at the tent.

"All right, you two, time for fishing!" Blake exclaimed as he took out their rods and tackle boxes. The previous summer, Blake had taken Katniss to pick out her own fishing rod. She chose the green and yellow one called the "Grasshopper." Last weekend, he and Katniss took Peeta to the department store to pick out his fishing rod. Peeta had stood for several minutes eying all the selections.

"Which one did you get?" Peeta asked Katniss, who proudly pointed out the Grasshopper and explained the merits. He listened thoughtfully and then walked up and down the aisle before suddenly awestruck. "There, that one," he said, pointing to the fiery orange-red one called the "Firefly." 

Now, Blake handed it to Peeta who took it proudly along with his small tackle box. He was too little to tie his own hook on the line but Blake knew he needed to feel part of it, and so he was equipped with his own tackle box that included lures that Peeta had picked out himself.

The three started down the path toward the stream. Once they arrived, Blake set down the bucket of minnows he was carrying and reached inside and captured one in his fist, and passed it off to Katniss, who deftly baited her hook. 

Peeta turned in time to see Katniss slip the hook into the minnow's mouth and guide it through the gill, and immediately blanched. "What are you doing?" he cried out.

"Baiting my hook," she replied simply. 

"But … but did you have to do that?" Peeta said in a horrified tone, as he looked at the minnow.

"Do what?" She looked at him, not understanding his current state.

"Put the little fish on the hook," he said, indicating the minnow.

"It's bait, Peeta. That's where you put bait." Katniss was still confused.

"But … but …" his voice dropped to a whisper, "it's alive."

"Of course, Peeta. It has to be alive … otherwise, it's just … dead," she concluded as if that ended the argument.

Blake reached for Peeta's hook and began putting the minnow on the end. "See Peeta, you hold em like this and they open their mouth and you slip it through, and they don't feel a thing." Peeta watched and true, the minnow did not appear to flinch, but he wasn't sure he knew what a fish flinching would look like. Really, though, who could say whether the little fish hurt or not.

"Do I need one of those?" he croaked, and for the first time Blake looked into his face. His eyes were pained, and his cheeks were flushed. 

"Uh, well, do you want to catch a fish?" Peeta nodded. "Well, then you probably need bait."

"What does bait do exactly?" Peeta questioned.

"Well, Peety, we put it in the water and a big fish comes along and … ."

But she didn't get a chance to finish her thought. "The fish EATS it?" Peeta's voice rising. Katniss and Blake nodded as Peeta crumpled to the bank. After a minute, "I think I would like to try it without the little fish," Peeta concluded, as Blake removed the minnow from his hook. Peeta stood on wobbly legs.

They fished in silence for several minutes. Peeta copying Katniss's movements as he reconciled his mind to the fate of the bait at the end of their hooks. All of a sudden, the end of his rod dipped. Katniss raised her eyebrows in surprise knowing that Peeta's hook was "naked." The rod dipped again, deeper. Blake wanted to reach over and jerk the rod upward but wasn't sure what Peeta would think of that move.

The rod jumped once more, and Peeta reacted on instinct pulling it back and effectively setting the hook. He pushed the end of the rod into his tummy as his right hand began the arduous task of reeling in whatever was on the other end.

"I … think … I … caught … one," Peeta grunted as he made slight forward progress.

"There you go, little buddy, keep it coming." Blake readied the net.

His rod was nearly bent in half and the fish on the other end was struggling. Without warning, Peeta was pulled into the stream, and nearly dropped the rod. Katniss reacted quickly, dropping her fishing rod, and grabbing Peeta solidly around the middle. She pulled him backward and they landed with a thud on the bank, Peeta never losing his grip on his fishing rod.

"Hang on. I'll help you," Blake said as he grabbed for the line and heaved it toward them. Just then, Blake caught sight of a beautiful bass — a prize to any man. He almost laughed considering that this prize winner was on the end of a six-pound test line wielded by a five-year-old. The fish swam in closer causing the line to slack, but all at once it darted back causing the small pole to nearly bend in half again. The fish had probably learned valuable lessons through the years.

The trio made slow progress landing the fish. Peeta held tightly to his fishing rod, and Katniss held tightly to Peeta's waist. Blake, meanwhile, held the tip of the rod with one hand and the net with the other.

"Here it comes again!" Katniss squealed. "Get ready, Daddy!" Blake dipped the net quickly, and snatched the fish out of the water. Both children were panting with exertion. He held the net up for Peeta to see the trophy within. 

"Yay, Peeta!" Katniss squealed, hugging him close. 

The little boy was awestruck as Blake pulled the fish from the net and released the hook from its mouth. They were fishing for sunnies or perch. He had never imagined catching something like this, and on a bare hook to boot.

"Well, Peeta, what do you think?"

Peeta looked thoughtful. "I think he should go back." 

"What?" Katniss could hardly believe her ears.

"Well, he looks like he might be a daddy fish, and maybe he has babies." Blake was dumbfounded.

"We should at least take a photo of you with your first fish, don't you think, Peeta?" Peeta nodded solemnly as Blake instructed him how to hold his hands and placed the fish in them belly down. He quickly took a photo of Peeta, and another with Peeta and Katniss, and then placed the fish back in the water, and waited for it to move away on its own. Few men could have parted with such a trophy, but it wasn't his to keep.

The rest of the afternoon was spent catching enough fish for supper. Peeta had no qualms about keeping the smaller fish. They headed back to camp and found that Jen had already prepared the frying pan. Blake quickly filleted the fish and the two set about frying them while Katniss and Peeta explored the perimeter of the campsite.

"What kind of tree is that?" Katniss quizzed, "and remember, its leaves are green now."

Peeta carefully inspected the lobed leaves. "Oak," he said with certainty.

"That right, Peeta and its a decidus tree because it's leafy." In spite of her mispronunciation, Jen was proud of her little daughter's knowledge of the forest. She smiled at Blake who was watching the pair closely.

"Still wishing you had a boy?" Jen quizzed. Ever since the doctor had "strongly suggested" that Prim be her last, she struggled to quell her disappointment in not giving Blake a son. 

"What?" Blake looked up in surprise. 

"I know you were hoping to have a boy … ."

"Jen," he interrupted, "you know I never once talked about having a son."

"But … ."

"No buts, Jen, I love my Kitten and my Primmy, and would not trade them for a thousand sons," he said as he pulled her close. "What's that old saying, 'A son is a son until he takes a wife. A daughter is a daughter her entire life.'" Blake drew her in for a hug. "I will allow that I enjoy having Peeta around, and who knows? Maybe Peeta will be our son one day? "

"I don't think I'm ready to consider a grownup version of Katniss, yet," Jen frowned in a way reminiscent of Katniss."For now, let's just enjoy them as the little friends they are." Blake nodded.

They both looked up as the excited voice of Peeta filled the air, "Tracks! Look, Katniss, tracks!"

Katniss quickly crouched low to the ground and inspected them. "Yep, Peeta, you're right, tracks," she said gravely, as if she had just diagnosed a mysterious illness. "Looks like fox prints," she added with authority.

Peeta bends closer and examines the prints. "Yep, looks like fox prints." He wasn't entirely certain but it seemed plausible since Katniss seemed so sure.

"Come on kids, time to eat," Jen's called. Both leaped to their feet and moved in close for the plates that Jen had already prepared. 

"Camping sure makes me hungry," Peeta said as he gobbled the fish, beans and coleslaw. 

"Me too," Katniss said, her mouth full. 

Blake grinned because Katniss rarely ate more than a tiny share. Peeta, on the other hand, did a fair job of eating them out of house and home. 

After his second helping, Peeta helped Katniss wash the dishes — camping style. It was still early spring, so the evening was already getting cool. Blake threw more wood on the fire and brought out the roasting sticks. "Time for s'mores."

"S'mores?" Peeta inquired timidly.

"Oh they're the best, Peety," Katniss informed him. "We roast marshmallows on sticks and then put a slab of chocolate on between two graham crackers."

S'mores did sound "the best" to Peeta and he happily took the stick from Blake with the skewered marshmallow at the tip. He watched carefully as Katniss dipped the tip toward the hot coals. Like the bakery was his domain, the woods were hers and he bowed to her knowledge. 

"Not too close to the flames, Peety," she instructed, and he nodded, the motion just enough to bring the marshmallow into contact with the flames and Peeta watched in horror as his marshmallow flamed a bright orange. He was initially tempted to swing it around, but Blake's words caught him in time.

"Oops. Don't swing it, Peeta, I've got it." Blake blew on the tip and doused the flames. "There you go, just a little scorched." But to Peeta's discerning eyes, it was downright burnt. His marshmallow was completely black and crispy looking. 

Katniss, meanwhile, was doing a good job with hers and it was a light golden tan. "Here Peeta, let's eat yours now and then you can try again. She reached up and deftly removed the offending marshmallow and held the gooey mess out to Peeta. He took a tentative lick and then a large bite. Katniss finished it off. They giggled as they both had white, sticky marshmallow around their mouth and chin.

After the marshmallows were done to five-year-old perfection and they were eating their s'mores, Blake began his usual evening storytelling. This time both Katniss and Peeta, and even little Prim, were fearless explorers. 

Katniss's eyelids drooped first and Peeta's were not far behind. "Come on you two," Blake said, as he lifted them up and carried them toward the pup tent. He set them both on their feet but their eyelids mainly stayed shut. "We've got to brush the teeth kiddos." Jen arrived with brushes in hand and small cups of water. The children went through the motions and then Blake sat them down and pulled off their boots.

Peeta unceremoniously flopped backward. "Here, let's get you into the bag," Blake said as he pulled him down in snugly. Next he lifted Katniss in and the two adjusted themselves to each other as Blake zipped up the bag, and then the tent flap.

"Are they going to be all right out here by themselves?" Jen questioned anxiously. 

The little tent was right next to the big tent. "I'll sleep right by the door and if they stir, I will hear them," he said, using his most comforting tone.

But they didn't stir. In fact, it was one of the best night's sleep either had ever had on their first of many campouts. On the other hand, Blake barely slept a wink so caught up in thoughts. More and more he considered the future, hoping that life (and Mrs. Mellark) would treat Peeta kindly. 

He had no concerns for his own daughters. In his mind, they would grow up happy and well loved by himself and their mother. It wasn't meant to be though. They were well-loved for several years, but a tragic accident changed that future. If Blake had been able to peer into the future, his own daughters lives might have caused him to never sleep again.


	9. Engagements

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hunger Games characters are the property of Suzanne Collins.

"And then, James went to Father and asked for her hand," Jen said, as she dished out peas to Katniss, Peeta and Prim.  Jen was discussing her youngest sister's recent engagement.  
  
"I asked for your hand too, only your father would have preferred my head!" Peeta swung his wide eyes in Blake's direction.   
  
"Only her hand, Daddy? Why would you want just her hand?" Katniss's gray eyes were troubled.  
  
"Oh, well Kitten, that's easy. Her hand is her best part." Blake's eyes twinkled but Katniss drew her little face up into a scowl and was just about to say something when Jen broke in.  
  
"Stop teasing, Blake."  
  
"What? It is!" Blake laughed. "I just had to take the rest of you because … it was attached." Only Blake laughed at his small joke. Seeing the sea of disgruntled faces before him, Blake relented. "No Kitten, when a boy loves a girl and wants to marry her, it's proper for him to go to her father and ask for her hand in marriage. It's permission to marry and to make sure the family will accept him."  
  
Katniss chewed thoughtfully, "So, Grandpa 'cepted you?"  
  
"No, honey, he didn't. Your grandpa turned me down flat." Unbelievably, little Katniss's scowl deepened.   
  
"Why?" Her little voice was no more than a whisper.  
  
"Well, you see, Kitten. There are three classes of people — upper or those that think they are," he cast a look in Peeta's direction as the little boy was trying desperately to capture an errant pea with the tine of his fork. "Middle and lower," he finished. "Your mama's family was pretty well off. Middle class to be sure and probably upper for these parts, while there was no doubt, my family was dirt poor."  
  
Katniss twisted her mouth to the side as she contemplated this information. "Her daddy just wanted the best man possible for her and he didn't think I was it."  
  
Jen smiled across the table. True life had its hardships but she was more than certain that the man sitting across the table was the perfect man for her. Life had turned a corner after the birth of Prim, when Blake was elevated to superintendent in the mines and it was nice to breathe easier, but she would not change a thing.  
  
"But your mama chose me, Kitten."  
  
"Why did you choose him, Mommy?" It wasn't that she questioned her mother's judgement. Katniss loved to hear the stories of when they first got together.  
  
"Well, I …. "   
  
But before she could fully respond, Blake said, "Because I'm awful pretty to look at and my voice is like a songbird." He was looking straight at Jen, a twinkle in his eye.  
  
Katniss looked at her father and she indeed thought he was handsome, and she knew that his voice was beautiful, so she believed him at once.   
  
"Well, that's partly true," Jen said. "His voice is like a songbird, but as far as pretty goes … ."  
  
"I'm shocked!" Peeta looked at him quickly. In all his time at the Everdeens, he had never heard even a small argument between the couple. It was so unlike his house, and now he feared one might be starting but the look on Blake's face quelled his fears. A huge smile adorned his features. "I thought is was my prettiness that really sealed the deal."  
  
"Perhaps it was your conceit," she answered without looking at him. A rosiness appeared in her cheeks, and if the children had been older they would have recognized flirtation at work. "I believe I felt sorry for you that no one else would care for a man as conceited as you."  
  
"Hmmpf," said Blake, but his smile had only grown wider.   
  
Katniss finished chewing a bite of meat. "But what happened then. If Mommy's daddy said no, why did you … take her hand?"  
  
"Well, Pumpkin, Daddy had wanted to do things proper-like. He wanted to ask her daddy and get permission before he asked your mama," he stopped a moment while he poured milk for the children and himself. "Just as I'm sure young Peeta will do before he asks for your hand in marriage. Right, Peeta?"   
  
Peeta's head came up, not expecting to factor into the conversation at all but then it was true. He wanted to be proper when it came to Katniss, and Blake had just mentioned marriage. Wait! A marriage to Katniss was one of his hopes even though he never mentioned it because he knew that Katniss was opposed to it. "Yes sir!" Peeta said calmly, and Blake grinned before taking the forkful of potatoes into his mouth.   
  
The scowl was just about to reappear on Katniss's face but she wiped it away. Marriage was a long time away and she decided that if she had to marry someone, she would rather it be Peeta than someone like Storm or Dallas.  
  
"Well, I stewed for a few days and your mama didn't know what was the matter with me."  
  
"I thought maybe he was tired of me," Jen said quietly, and both Peeta and Katniss turned to her. Her face betrayed some sadness, and only Blake knew the reason.  
  
"Tired? No way. I figured you wouldn't marry me without your daddy's approval." She shook her head quickly. "Anyway, I finally told her what I had done and what the outcome was. Then I said, 'Jen, I just can't imagine what my life would be like without you. I still wish you would be my wife.'" They were both lost in memories for a minute before Blake continued, "Your mama threw her arms around my neck and kissed me full on the mouth."  
  
Katniss groaned and hid her face. Peeta didn't hide his face but blushed deeply the pink of his face accentuated by his white shirt.   
  
"Blake, you are embarrassing the children not to mention me."   
  
"What?" He tried to look innocent but was enjoying the reaction. "Oh, that's right. Parents aren't supposed to kiss full on the lips. Let's see. How about, your mama threw her arms around my neck and kissed me softly on the cheek, just like a sparrow."  
  
"Daddy, sparrows don't kiss."  
  
"Right you are, Kitten. So let's see, she kissed me soft as a puppy."  
  
"She licked you?" Peeta was incredulous and caused both Blake and Jen to laugh loudly. Peeta was too young to understand that sometimes grownups did lick one another when they were feeling particularly amorous. Still, they wondered what the little boy was thinking. Katniss, for her part, had turned fifty shades of red.  
  
Once she was back under control, Jen said, "I kissed him. We'll leave it at that. But I did tell him that I wanted to marry him, and he pulled out a little box and gave me the most beautiful engagement ring ever. She held out her hand, and the tiny stone sparkled in the light. Peeta had seen larger stones, but he didn't think he had ever seen one more beautiful.  
  
Blake looked thoughtful. "It was only supposed to be temporary. I'm going to get you a bigger one."  
  
"Nonsense. It's perfect," Jen said, and looked like she meant it.  
  
"That night we … there's this family tradition on my side," Blake explained. "I went to the bakery and bought a loaf of plain white bread, and we cut two squares from it and we toasted it over the gas burners in my little apartment," his voice sounded wistful. "Then we fed it to each other, and made promises for the future."   
  
Katniss looked between her parents, who were looking only at each other. "What kinds of promises?" She had never heard this version of the story and she was intrigued.   
  
"Well, I promised that I would love her to my dying day. That I would take care of her and provide for her, and that I would make beautiful babies with her," he grinned but there was a bit of sadness as well. He would never disclose that they planned for a large family. "So far, I've made good on all my promises and we have the two prettiest babies in the entire world."  
  
Katniss blushed as Peeta grinned in her direction.  
  
"And I promised to love him with all my heart and to take care of him and our babies."  
  
Peeta liked their promises to one another. They were simple yet meaningful. He wondered if his parents had done something similar and decided they probably had not.  
  
"The next day, we went to the Justice of the Peace and were formally married. It probably wasn't the wedding your mama always dreamed of, but it did the trick."  
  
"It was perfect," Jen said.  
  
"So, I had me the prettiest girl in town but not two nickels to put together for a honeymoon."  
  
"What's a honeymoon?" Katniss asked innocently.  
  
It was Jen's turn to blush but Blake stepped in to answer. "It's a fancy trip you take after you're married. I still owe her a proper honeymoon. We just packed up a tent and went out to the lake where our cabin now sits. We'll take you there this summer, Peeta, so you can see the lay of the land." Peeta nodded solemnly. He felt like a great honor had been bestowed on him.  
  
"We decided that day to build a cabin out there and that's where we will probably spend our retirement."  
  
Conversation turned to summer plans, and the meal soon ended. As usual, Peeta hopped off his chair and pushed it to the sink followed not too far behind by Katniss and her chair. They stood side by side washing and wiping the dishes. It always made Blake smile to see them, but Jen's heart ached for the little boy who always felt the need to pitch in and do dishes.  
  
Afterward, Peeta and Katniss laid on the floor in the living room along with Prim, and watched Scooby Doo.  
  
"Bedtime, kiddos," Blake said as he scooped up Prim and snuggled her close before handing her off to Jen. Then he knelt down and pulled Katniss and Peeta off the floor and into his arms. "Oooof, you two are an armload now!" He brought them upstairs where they washed their faces and brushed their teeth before pulling on their pajamas.  
  
Blake lifted Peeta into the bunkbed first, followed by Katniss and watched their ritual of finding a comfortable spot before he leaned in and kissed them both goodnight.  
  
Katniss soon fell asleep, but Peeta lay awake still considering the conversation from dinner. Eventually, he slipped across Katniss and down the ladder. He padded out into the hallway and made his way downstairs.   
  
"Peeta! What are you doing out of bed? Aren't you feeling well?" Jen asked, getting up to feel his forehead.  
  
"I feel fine. I just wanted to talk to Blake a minute."  
  
"Oh, all right, I need to get the clothes out of the dryer anyway."  
  
Peeta waited until she cleared the room and then turned to Blake, suddenly nervous. Dressed in his blue Thomas the Train jammies, he felt little confidence.   
  
"What's up there, buddy?" Blake asked, somewhat concerned at what had drawn the little boy out of bed.   
  
"Ummm, Blake? You know that I like Katniss a lot, and well, not yet but one day, I want to marry her and I was wondering if that'd be okay with you?"  
  
Blake fought to suppress the smile that was threatening under the unwavering stare of Peeta. He never dreamed he would be confronted by this situation what with Katniss being not quite six. Still, if he had to give his little girl up to someone, he would rather it be Peeta.  
  
"Well, now, don't you think you might be a little young to be thinking about marriage?"  
  
Peeta blushed, "Right. We have to graduate kindergarten, and high school too, and then go to college and get jobs. It won't be for awhile."  
  
Few five-year-olds already had their future quite so well-planned, and Blake had to grin. "Well, Peeta, I'm certain Jen would agree, if you and Katniss are meant to be together, we will not step in your way. You have our blessing."  
  
Peeta grinned broadly. "Thanks, Blake!" He hugged the man quickly and bounded up the stairs. Katniss's family accepted him!   
  
Jen was waiting just inside the door to the kitchen and returned to the couch just as they heard the bedroom door click. "Wow! Who knew?" In the back of her mind was the fact that they were both little and feelings could likely change, but then again, who really did know?  
  
Years later, when the time actually did come for Peeta to ask Katniss to marry him, he was secretly glad for his impromptu conversation with Blake years before. Still, it did not stop him from a brief visit to Blake's gravesite where he spent time making the promises he would had Blake lived. He left the cemetery that day feeling a little lighter as if Blake had somehow offered his blessing.  
  
When he asked Katniss, she promptly agreed, and later he shared with her both visits to her father. She laughed about his five-year-old self, but cried when he told her about his 21-year-old self.  
  



	10. The Birthday Cake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hunger Games characters belong to Suzanne Collins.

John spent hours deliberating the cake. It had to be perfect. It was Peeta's cake, and of course, Katniss's cake as well. But in truth, it was the first time he had baked a cake for his little Peeta and he wanted it to be perfect.   
  
He had been surprised when Jennifer entered the bakery a few weeks before. She rarely came by probably not wanting to meet up with Cynthia, but there she stood. His breath caught a bit because she was truly as stunning as ever. She had approached the counter quietly, her eyes roaming the confines of the bakery. He knew she was searching for Cynthia.  
  
"Good morning, Jen. What can I do for you?" She seemed to sense that his rather loud greeting was an indicator that Cynthia was not working. In fact, Cynthia was at her counselor's office that day or so he thought.  
  
Jen got right down to business discussing the party, the cake and other details. His heart ached, knowing that his little boy would finally have a party to commemorate his birthday.  
  
"So, they want a 'Toy Story' themed cake. Are you familiar?" He nodded. Cynthia and John had taken the older two boys to see it. "The children loved it, and I had to deal with them reciting lines. 'Sheriff, this is no time to panic.' 'This is the perfect time to panic.' Peeta loves Woody and Katniss loves Buzz. I'm making them costumes for the party and we're doing a "Come as Your Favorite Toy," party.  
  
Her enthusiasm was contagious and soon John was caught up planning the cake.   
  
Now though, the party was tomorrow, and John had not yet finalized the cake. He had picked up the figurines the day before and was working on the background idea. All at once, it came to him. He was going to make the cake double layer chocolate, and shape it like a bed with a quilt and pillows, and place the figurines as if Woody and Buzz were haphazardly tossed on the bed.  
  
John set to work and quite quickly had the majority of the cake decorated. He was putting the final touches on the frosting when the door between the private quarters and bakery banged shut. "Damn," he muttered quietly but did not look up.  
  
"I thought we could go out this evening," Cynthia said in a demanding voice. She stopped short when she noticed that he was working on a cake. "I didn't know we had special orders." The fancy cakes were never made for display only. They always had a destination.  
  
"Came in just before closing." He looked up and watched as she consulted the clipboard with all the special orders.   
  
"It's not here."  
  
"Right, I didn't take time to write it down since it was later." John refocussed his attention on the cake.  
  
"Hmmm. Well, I hope that you are charging the express fee for it." Cynthia moved to inspect the cake.   
  
"Actually," John said quietly as he worked on the trim of the quilt. "It's a unique cake. Kind of one of kind and I'm feeling like, if it turns out well, it could be some pretty good advertising for us. Some pretty special people will be at the party." He knew his wife's weakness. She loved to have people talk about the bakery and if the talk was positive, it translated into more traffic and larger orders."  
  
"Really? Who?"  
  
"The mayor, his wife … ."  
  
"The mayor? Really? It looks like it's for a kids party."  
  
"Mmmmhmmm. It is, but their little daughter Madgie is going to be there. Also, Matt Slicker's son, Cash." The slickers were the wealthiest family in town. Everyone had laughed when he and his wife named the little boy Cashmere, but the nickname Cash was probably one of the most appropriate.  
  
"Oh," Cynthia's eyebrows furrowed. She had been hoping for an in with those families for a long time. The mayor never bought anything other than bread, and the Slickers never managed to darken the door of the bakery. "Maybe we should offer it free-of-charge. Tell them it's our first ever of this kind of cake …."  
  
John recognized that the wheels were turning and she was thinking out loud. He half-smiled, knowing that his mission was nearly accomplished. "I told the woman twenty-five dollars," he said as he surveyed his work. He knew it was a lot of money and that his wife had a greedy side, but he also knew one other thing.  
  
"Oh my," she blanched. "Twenty-five is too much, John, we can't possibly. What would people think if it got out." His wife had very carefully and scrupulously evaluated the market in terms of pricing. Cynthia knew exactly what competitors would charge and the percentage above that Mellark's could charge for their pastries, cakes and breads. She knew that the double-layer cake, even with the express fee, would cost about seventeen dollars. Overcharging in her book was akin to suicide in the professional world. "When they pick it up tomorrow, tell them that you miscalculated and because of that, you are offering it as a gift for the child."  
  
"Well, if you're sure." John said, reluctantly.  
  
"Yes, I'm sure, and put some business cards in the box."  
  
"Good idea," John concurred. Cynthia was very shrewd. She considered every angle. Overcharging would be a terrible idea and would turn away customers. A generous gift would spread, and others might order one similar just hoping to get a really good deal themselves.   
  
She had even analyzed what the best return on stale bread was for them. Day old bread stayed on a rack, discounted appropriately. Two-day-old bread was moved to the back and prepped for the pig farmer. No one left two-day-old bread on the shelf in the bakery because it sent the wrong message. Maybe the bread wasn't as good as everyone thought. John approached her about giving the perfectly good bread to the homeless shelter, but after evaluating Cynthia determined it would hurt business; whereas, if she gave it to the pig farmer, he gave her a big discount on a side of pork.  
  
"How much longer?" Cynthia asked.  
  
"Maybe thirty minutes or so," he breathed easier knowing that he might have averted a colossal meltdown had she discovered who the cake was intended for. Peeta's birthday had been the previous Tuesday, and when he brought him his birthday cupcake, Cynthia had flown into a rage that was unmatched. She had yelled at John that she did not wish to be reminded of the dark day that Peeta joined the world.  
  
His breath caught as he remembered the look in Peeta's eyes. Every year had been the same, but now Peeta was old enough to understand the meaning of her words. Cynthia would have preferred he had not been born. John had managed to keep Cynthia at bay long enough for Peeta to escape to his room, cupcake in hand. Later, he found the little boy sobbing in bed, the cupcake untouched by his bedside.  
  
"Peeta, are you okay?" he asked needlessly, knowing the answer.  
  
"Is that why I didn't get to bring cupcakes to school today like Derrick and JJ?" John closed his eyes, tormented by the fact his little boy was finally realizing the gross unfairness of being the youngest Mellark son. Cynthia had forbade him to send cupcakes with Peeta, and he had complied thinking that Peeta wouldn't likely notice but he did.   
  
He cleared his throat and swallowed hard, "I'm sending cupcakes tomorrow for your birthday, but also for Katniss's birthday." The little boy sat up quickly and roughly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.  
  
"Really, Dad? For Katniss?" John smiled at his son, once again surprised at how Peeta wore his heart on his sleeve. Birthday cupcakes for himself would have been great but sharing them with his best friend was a whole other dimension.  
  
Cynthia had already gone to bed with a sick headache. "Come on, Peeta, we will make them together. The little boy hopped out of bed and quietly opened the door and trekked to the bakery. They spent the next two hours working on the cupcakes. Peeta had supervised making the frosting — forest green for her and sunset orange for himself.   
  
John worked to craft a mold for a sugar bow and tiny palette to place on the tops. Peeta finally went to bed with a happy smile on his face. Before he left, he hugged his dad tightly, "This was the best birthday ever." John had squeezed him tightly and stifled a sob.   
  
Long after, John worked on the bow and paintbrush. Each piece of sugar was custom-painted with special dyes and placed carefully atop each cupcake.   
  
The next morning, he and Peeta walked to school with Peeta proudly carrying half the cupcakes and his father the other half. Katniss was already in the room when they arrived.  
  
"Happy Birthday, Katniss!" he called out upon seeing her.   
  
"Thanks. Did you have a good birthday?" She was already starting to recognize that, while Peeta's family had more wealth than hers, he had decidedly less in terms of family support.   
  
"The best," he beamed at her, "we made cupcakes to celebrate both our birthdays." He carefully set down the box, and went to the cubby to hang up his light jacket. When he returned, he raised the lid and showed her the cupcakes.  
  
A tiny gasp escaped her. "They're beautiful, Peety."  
  
A blush colored his cheeks. "This one is yours. I made it myself." He pulled out a cupcake with a more than generous amount of frosting that was swirled in a not quite professional manner.  
  
"I love it," Katniss said sincerely as she pulled him close for a hug making his blush deepen.  
  
During morning snack, the children sang "Happy Birthday" to Katniss just as they had sung the previous day to Peeta. But it was both Peeta and Katniss who handed out the cupcakes. Later, Peeta watched at Katniss took a bite of her cupcake, smearing her nose with the dark green frosting  
  
"Mmmmmm, these are the best, Peety."  
  
"I know," he nodded. "My Dad made them and he's the best baker in the whole world."  
  
Birthday cupcakes became a tradition. John alternated between the two birthdays so that each would be able to enjoy sharing cupcakes on their birthday. Eventually, they got too old to bring cupcakes for their class. But one thing remained consistent even after they outgrew the in-class party, Peeta always made a special cupcake for Katniss on her birthday. Eventually, his skills were perfected to the point that he managed to outshow even his own father.  
  
Now though, John stood in front of the cake, admiring his work as he laid the two figures on top. He decided to wait to the following day to inscribe it before he delivered it to the party.   
  



	11. Middle School Years - The Friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hunger Games characters belong to Suzanne Collins
> 
> Sorry for the delay, but this chapter takes place between chapters one and two of the Middle School years. Hope you enjoy!

"Pipe down everyone!" Haymitch's voice boomed across the small but overcrowded room. He ran a hand over his jaw and wished that it were the weekend when he could safely drown his worries in a little whiskey or maybe vodka or … . He shook his head and pushed the thoughts of his favorite liquors from his mind.  
  
At the moment he was faced with, well you might say, "a sea of faces" with eyes trained on him. He hated controversy and that's why when the little Everdeen girl showed up to tryout that first day, Coach Abernathy immediately dismissed her. It wasn't that he didn't think she could do well. It was because he wasn't ready to do battle over something like having a girl on the team.  
But then he saw her run. He saw her run and the coach knew he had found the key to winning that season. When she doffed her helmet and revealed her thick braid, he inwardly swore and knew he had to fight this battle.  
  
"Girls can't be on the football team. It's not rocket science," Jackson Marvel's voice burst out. Marvel was the president of one of the two banks in town and felt that his words should carry the same weight as gold.   
  
"I'm afraid you're wrong there," Coach Abernathy said as he held up a slim volume bound in a turquoise wrapper. "This is the school athletic handbook, and under football, there's no gender identification. So, there's no official rule prohibiting the girl from playing."  
  
Murmurs broke out again before Storm Cato's father spoke up. "It shouldn't have to be a written policy. It's implied."  
  
"How exactly is it implied? The word 'foot' or no, let me guess, the word 'ball.'" Haymitch quipped sarcastically, and in spite of the tension in the room, several of the parents laughed.   
  
Exasperated, Cato spoke up, "There are some sports where girls should not compete with boys."  
  
"Well, there are only a few sports where gender is mentioned at all and those are boys and girls basketball, cross country, swimming, golf and track. With the latter sports indicating that they are open to both genders. All other sports are gender unspecific. But we are a Title IX school, and as such, we have to provide equal sports for both boys and girls. Other schools have allowed girls to play football."  
  
"What's next? Wrestling?" Marvel snorted.  
  
"As a matter of fact, our district has a very … progressive program when it comes to sports. We've had female wrestlers for awhile now. Little JoHanna Mason wrestles and wins her weight group ever match. Also, we have female hockey players play right alongside their male counterparts all the way through Bantams."  
  
Marvel snorted and disregarded the coach's comment. "I guess Everdeen doesn't care what people think or the fact that everyone already knows he's raising a … ." It seemed like everyone in the room drew in a breath at the same time and held it waiting to see how he finished the sentence. "Dike," he finally spit out. Several gasped in shock, and more than a few shook their heads in anger; however, no one spoke for a full thirty seconds.

  
But then Blake Everdeen stood, an imposing six feet two inches of sinewy muscle, trembling with rage. His voice was low as he addressed Marvel. "Look here, Jackson, this is the year 2000, and people should be past the name calling, especially people like you. What would people in this town think if a bank president were known to harbor such prejudice? But beyond that, calling a ten-year-old girl that is reprehensible and I will thank you to apologize to me before I break your nose like my daughter broke your son's five years ago."  
  
More than a few chuckled and Marvel looked around anxiously. Even Cato was sitting back subdued. "I … I  … might have been out of line and for that, I'm sorry. But Everdeen think about it. Think about the fact that girl is small and all kinds of boys are going to be tackling her and she won't last out there."  
  
"I appreciate the concern, but Katniss can handle herself and I fully support her placement on the team."  
  
Marvel guffawed loudly and turned his attention to the crowd. "Who here agrees that girl has no place on the team?" He looked around but no one said anything. He cleared his throat, "Well then, I don't see as I have any other choice but to pull my sponsorship from the team." He narrowed his eyes at Haymitch.  
  
The team had few sponsors and the bank had donated three high quality footballs to the team but he wasn't going to back down now. It was a matter of pride. "You have to do as you see fit and we'll just have to get along without the footballs."   
  
"Just a minute," John Mellark spoke up. "I support Katniss on the team and I was thinking that the bakery could underwrite new helmets for the team with the team's logo inscribed on them." The team currently had beat-up, leftover plain white helmets. A cheer erupted. "You pick them out, Coach, and get them ordered and send me the bill!"  
  
Coach Abernathy nodded once and made a note.  
  
"I wouldn't expect anything more from you, Mellark. Your boy has palled around with her for yours, and you know what they say about a boy who has a girl … ."  
  
"Finish that sentence, and I will make good on my promise from earlier," Blake stood again, his voice still low and menacing. "You seem to have a real problem, Marvel and … ." He felt some one place his hand on his shoulder and looked toward John, who had a small smile on his face. He nodded once and let John take over.  
  
"Marvel, you're just upset that your boy is not as good a player as Blake's girl. May as well admit." Laughter erupted all over the room as Marvel's face turned scarlet. "Blake is right though, you seem to show a real lack of tolerance." Marvel sputtered. It was one thing to be called out by a coal miner, but quite another in his mind to be called out by a respected merchant.  
  
A throat cleared behind him and John turned to see Dexter Thresh's dad standing. His deep voice rumbled across the room. "I would like to say that I support Katniss Everdeen's involvement with the team and hereby pledge new jerseys with logo and names for the entire team on behalf of Security National Bank." Another cheer, and Haymitch quickly made notes. "Order them immediately in appropriate sizes and color, Mr. Abernathy and get me the bill."  
  
"We'll underwrite new pants in appropriate size and color. Bill it to Slicker Mines, Inc." Blake turned sharply to see the mine owner Tom Slicker standing in the back. "Also, put new shoes with cleats for the kids on your list!" Another shout of approval rose up.   
  
"The sawmill will donate thigh pads!"  
  
There was a hurried conversation between the merchants before Don Cartwright spoke up. "The Chamber will donate funds for new shoulder pads, and if necessary, footballs too!"  
  
A sly grin overtook Haymitch's face. He had expected to fight a long battle, and leave the room mostly unsupported, and here they were with the best outfitted team save the varsity team. Certainly, they would have better uniforms than any of the other teams they were scheduled to play.  
  
"That's settled then. I'll order the stuff first thing in the morning and expedite shipping to have it here in time for the first game." Haymitch was relieved that they would have new shoes with built-in cleats rather than the strap-ons that most of the team had been wearing. His comment was met with hearty applause.  
  
"All right then, our first game of the season is next Thursday and we will be taking on the Bears. Should be a good matchup and I hope to see you all there!" Haymitch left the stage even as Marvel attempted to keep the debate going.  
  
Blake turned to John as the others began filing out of the room. "I appreciate your support, John," he said as he extended his hand.  
  
"I can't not support our girl, Blake. She's one of a kind, and you know that Peeta would never forgive me if I didn't throw my weight behind her." He smiled as he spoke, and Blake realized how the lines had blurred through the years. Peeta was the son he never had, and Katniss was the daughter John never had. Sure, the pair spent far more time with Blake and Jen than John and his wife, but it was necessity, and he realized that John loved his little girl as much as he loved Peeta. "No matter what, Blake, I will always be there for her."  
  
Blake smiled and slapped him on the back. "Same here."   
  
Little did the two men know that slightly more than a year later, John's promise would be put to the test following Blake's tragic and untimely death. But John did come through for both Katniss and Prim. While he knew he would never replace her father, he became the solid presence in the stormy years that followed and Katniss grew to love him.  On her wedding day, he stood before her and kissed her once on each cheek — for himself and Blake — before escorting her down the aisle to Peeta's waiting arms.  
  
But on this night, the two men could only feel the excitement of the upcoming first game of the season.  
  
"Buy you a beer before going home?" Blake hesitated only a moment.   
  
"Sure, I'll call Jen and let her know." He pulled out his phone and quickly dialed his home phone. "Jen? I'm going to go out with John for a beer. … Yeah, things went great, the kids are going to have brand new uniforms. … Yeah, I'll tell you all about it when I get home. … No, I won't miss bedtime. I never do. … Love you too, bye." He pocketed his phone. "Now, let's go find that beer!"  
  
The two men set off down the street, exchanging light boasts about Peeta's arm and Katniss's legs. Neither of then would have guessed that their early rivalry would have evolved into a mutual friendship cemented by the bond of their children.

 


	12. The Bully

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hunger Games characters belong to Suzanne Collins.
> 
> This chapter takes place just before the Middle School Years - "The Talk."
> 
> Thanks for the feedback!

"My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am 10-years-old. I live in the Seam. I go to District 12 school. My dad is a superintendent in the mines. My mom is a midwife and practices holistic medicine. My little sister, Prim, is in first grade. My best friend is Peeta Mellark. We have known each other since we were five. I like to play football and hunt.  
  
"In five years, I will be in tenth grade and I think everything will be pretty much like it is now. Except maybe I won't play football and my sister will be in sixth grade instead of first.  
  
"In ten years, I will be in college. I would like to be a veterinarian but I don't know if my love of hunting quite fits that career. I might study forestry because I love the woods or maybe I will become a writer. I don't plan to date but if I do it will probably be Peeta.  
  
"I know that in fifteen years, everyone expects to be married with a baby or something. If I get married, it will be Peeta and we will have a dog instead of a baby."  
  
Blake and Jen exchanged a glance as they read the last paragraph. He shook his head slightly trying to hide the grin that was spreading. Just then they noticed that Peeta was approaching.  
  
"Hey!" Peeta greeted before turning his attention to the wall and reading Katniss's story. He grinned widely as he realized he made the first paragraph, and a faint blush appeared as he read that she would probably date him. A frown graced his face as he started to read the last paragraph but suddenly broke into an unabashed grin accompanied by scarlet cheeks.  
  
"Uh, well," Peeta said as he turned to the Everdeens who had watched his reactions with amusement. He reached up and tugged his blonde hair nervously. "Is … uh … Katniss around?"  
  
It had been a long time since they had seen Peeta tug his hair and Blake reached up a hand to cover the small chuckle that escaped. "Uh, she's over there I think," Blake gestured to the far wall filled with artwork.  
  
"Oh, okay. Nice seeing you." Peeta hurried off.  
  
"Let's find Peeta's," Blake said, wondering to himself what the boy had written. They looked around and spotted Peeta's father John reading a paper on the wall. The Everdeens moved over to him and began to read.  
  
"My name is Peeta Mellark. I am ten-years-old. My father is a baker and we live in an area called Victor's Village which is a fancy name for one of the developments. My best friend is Katniss Everdeen and I spend a lot of time with her family in the Seam. So I live there too. I like to draw, play football and wrestle. But most of all, I love to spend time with Katniss doing stuff she likes.  
  
"In five years, I will be a sophomore. I think I will still be playing football and wrestling. I will probably still enjoy drawing and I might be helping out more at the bakery where I'm learning to decorate cakes. Katniss doesn't want to date but I hope she will change her mind.  
  
"In ten years, I will be in college and studying art I think. I would like to do something with Katniss when I grow up. I plan to be engaged and it will be to Katniss. I think by then I will be able to have changed her mind about dating.  
  
"In fifteen years, Katniss and I will be married. I don't think we will have children at that point because that's going to take a lot more talking on my part but we will have a dog. His name will be Chuckles and he will be a golden retriever because Katniss likes to hunt. The end. Well, there's more but that's as far as the assignment asked."  
  
The years would prove that Peeta was far more prophetic than Katniss. But as of that point, no one knew what the future held for anyone. The three parents stood in silence for a moment, each reckoning at how quickly time passed. Blake wondered what had happened to the little girl who toddled at his heels, and John wondered where the pudgy little boy, who sat quiet as a church mouse in the corner, had gone. Somewhere along the line, Peeta had grown into a confident, focussed young man.  
  
It had not gone unnoticed that Peeta had mentioned neither his mother nor his brothers. "Is … is your wife here tonight, John?" Jen asked. It was the fall family night coupled with parent-teacher conferences.  
  
He shook his head quickly. "Migraine," he muttered, but when Jen thought about it, she had never once seen Cynthia at a school function since Peeta's first football game in late summer. It was probably better that way because if she had read his story, she likely would have torn it from the wall.  
  
Jen remembered Peeta's excitement in kindergarten when all the children had made a card for their moms for Mother's Day. He showed it to Jen and she was amazed that the little boy had drawn a perfect lily on the front of the card. Lillies were Jen's favorite. "I hope Mother will like it," Peeta said, his voice full of concern.  
  
"She'll love it," Jen assured. After all, what mother wouldn't? Two hours later, she found out exactly what kind of mother wouldn't when John called wondering if he could drop his little son off for the weekend. Usually Peeta spent every weekend with the Everdeens but the parents had conferred and decided since it was Mother's Day, he should spend the weekend at his home. "Of course," she had answered quickly and when he arrived. Peeta was holding the remnants of his card. Jen took in his tear-streaked face and held open her arms. He promptly walked into them and began sobbing uncontrollably.  
  
Finally, "Her favorite …  is a … is a rose," Peeta gasped out. Jen hugged him tighter. "I should have given … it to you … cause that's who I made it for." Later that evening, he sat at the table and redrew the lily. Jen could hear Katniss spelling, "M-O-T-H-E-R apostrophe, you know the little hangy thing, S." A few minutes later, Peeta shyly presented it to her and stepped back. If anything, it was prettier than the first card.  
  
"Oh Peeta, it's beautiful," and she hugged him close. After that, she always received two identical gifts for Mother's Day and Peeta's mother received none. If Cynthia missed the gifts, she never mentioned it. Jen always exclaimed over both and Peeta relished the hugs she generously doled out.  
  
Katniss's voice drew Jen back to the present. "Come quick, you hafta see this. Peeta's got a whole wall to himself." The parents followed and sure enough, Peeta's drawings occupied an entire wall. Peeta stood to the side, flushed and a little sweaty as people admired his drawings and asked questions.  
  
There were drawings of fruit and drawings of vases filled with flowers. But there were also drawings of Katniss climbing a tree, Buttercup stalking his prey, Jen standing by the stove, Blake sitting in his chair, Prim playing in the lake. John had focussed on one drawing in particular though. It was Peeta's perspective as big hands joined little hands kneading a lump of bread dough. It was plain pencil but Peeta had captured the reality of the scene. He reached out to trace the edge of the paper.  
  
"This is going right in the front of the bakery," John said, pride evident in his voice.  
  
"Really, Dad?"  
  
"Yes, really. I'm going to have it framed." Peeta absolutely beamed at his father's words.  
  
Mr. Brown's voice interrupted them. "Mr. and Mrs. Everdeen, I'm ready for you."  
  
"Okay," Blake answered before turning to Katniss, "You want to wait out here or go in?"  
  
"I'll wait here," she answered quickly, looking in Peeta's direction. Blake couldn't help but wonder if Katniss harbored deeper feelings for Peeta than she was willing to admit.  
  
Together, Blake and Jen went into the rather plain classroom.  
  
"Have a seat," Mr. Brown said, indicating the empty chairs at the small table. Once they were settled, "Katniss is a pleasure to have in my class. I hope you were not too surprised when she switched to my class."  
  
"No, not surprised at all," Blake said trying to suppress a grin. He and Jen were not surprised at all when Katniss had explained during supper that night that she had switched classrooms to be closer to Peeta. If her grades weren't so high, they may have worried but Peeta and Katniss pushed each other to greater heights academically.  
  
"She excels in every subject and is a natural born leader. She has a bright future ahead of her." Mr. Brown said. Both Jen and Blake nodded. Year after year, they had heard similar things. "My only concern is … ." Blake shifted uneasily. Not since kindergarten had anyone voiced concerns about Katniss, and that was her slightly anti-social behavior. "… How close she is to Peeta Mellark."  
  
Blake and Jen exchanged a glance, and smiled slightly. "Now, I know that pre-adolescent hormones are already kicking in for a lot of kids. Hel-ck," he said, barely catching himself. "I never realized just how powerful those hormones would be in kids this young. I would almost prefer the 'cootie stage.' But it seems deeper than that. They do everything together, and she's not afraid to come to his defense."  
  
"What's the problem?" Blake asked impatiently not seeing any reason to be concerned. It was a fact of their lives that Katniss and Peeta were close to each other.  
  
"Uh. Well, it's just she doesn't have many female friends. I mean, there's Johanna Mason, but she's well, probably not the best influence. Then there's Delly but she's definitely swooning over Peeta and merely tolerates Katniss. Of course, Madgie Undersee is always trying to be her friend, but she spends all her free time with Peeta."  
  
"Oh. Okay," Blake said, and brought his fingers up to scratch his temple while he stalled for time as he tried to come up with a suitable response.  
  
But before he could respond further, Jen jumped in, "I don't see the problem, Mr. Brown. Katniss and Peeta have been best friends since the first day of kindergarten. Peeta practically lives with us in the summer and spends every weekend with us during the school year. It's no mystery to me that they spend the amount of time together that they do."  
  
Mr. Brown was momentarily stymied. "Uh, but … well … aren't you … concerned? I mean, he's a boy and she's a … girl. I mean, I'm all for women's lib and everything, but still." He was nearly stammering under the glare of Jen Everdeen.  
  
"Mr. Brown, I appreciate your concern but it's none of your business. Have you seen anything that causes you concern that something ... untoward is going on?" He shook his head slightly. "Well, I'll tell you, Peeta is one of the nicest children around, boy or girl. I don't really think it's a 'women's lib' issue, nor is a matter of feminism. Peeta and Katniss are friends, best friends and I don't think gender factors into it at all. It might at some point and at such time, we'll deal with it. Now is there anything else?"  
  
He shook his head, as a blush creeped up his cheeks, tinging his ears. The Everdeens rose stiffly to their feet and pushed back from the table. In truth, Mr. Brown would never have even mentioned it if not for Mr. Marvel's insistence, and now he had upset them. He was never really bothered by the friendship of Peeta and Katniss, and wasn't even sure what Mr. Marvel was insinuating when he suggested, strongly, that someone needed to talk to the Everdeens. Marvel made it sound like he would be doing them a favor.  
  
They were nearly to the door. "Wait!" The Everdeens turned, neither one looking happy that their exit had been interrupted. "I'm sorry. Marvel said I should talk to you about them. That you didn't understand how the friendship looked to everyone else."  
  
"What?" Blake asked incredulously. "You? … Marvel?… You better understand something if you're going to get through the rest of the year. For whatever reason, Marvel's kid Dallas has bullied Katniss and Peeta since kindergarten. Both kids have fought back when provoked. I don't condone violence, Mr. Brown, but I have taught Katniss to defend herself. Marvel is just trying to get back at us because of his own son's ridiculous behavior. I'm just surprised you agreed to take part."  
  
"I …. I'm trying to get a loan for a house." Mr. Brown's shoulders sagged.  
  
"Ah, sorry," Blake said, a look of pity in his eyes.  
  
He stepped out of the classroom and saw Marvel and his son, Dallas, several feet away snickering at Peeta's paintings. John stood nearby red-faced and clutching the shoulders of Katniss who appeared read to explode. Blake was glad that all his financial dealings were through the credit union.  
  
"Marvel," he said loud enough to attract the attention of several parents. "I've had enough of your passive-aggressive tactics. I knew from the time your boy was in kindergarten that he was a bully but I always gave you the benefit of the doubt. I guess I just can't anymore." Blake still stood several feet away ensuring that he would have to raise his voice slightly to be heard but the room had fallen silent.  
  
"I guess Dallas learned his bullying tactics from you." Marvel's pink shirt accentuated his blush which appeared a deep red. "Threatening a house loan for Mr. Brown if he didn't speak to us about my girl's friendship with Peeta." Jaws fell around the room. "I'll thank you to keep your mouth shut about it. If you ever do something like that again, I'll personally make sure you never work in banking again." Blake wasn't sure he could make good on the threat but he laid it out there anyway.  
  
"And, if your son ever bothers my daughter or Peeta Mellark again, I will ask that the school follow through with all the threats of suspension and expulsion they have levied through the years."  
  
Mr. Brown had appeared in the doorway and his face was now ashen. Mr. Thresh stepped forward, "Brown, I would like to extend an invitation to you to submit an application at my bank. I will deal personally with you and make sure you get the best rates possible." Color returned to his cheeks as Mr. Brown nodded.  
  
"Thanks," he murmured.  
  
"That goes for anyone else who might be looking for a loan that's been held up under false pretenses," Thresh said, looking around the room.  
  
John Mellark stepped forward. "I'll be transferring my money tomorrow, Thresh." John's mortgage was held by the credit union but his business and personal accounts were mainly at Marvel's bank. Laziness had resulted in him keeping everything status quo for too long.  
  
Others stepped forward in a show of solidarity against the banker who everyone knew resorted to personal issues when it came to banking decisions. Marvel glanced around nervously and then put a hand on his son's back. "I resent the implications, Everdeen. But if you feel I wronged you, then I'm sorry."  
  
"I don't care about meaningless apologies. You just better not poke your nose in our business again." Marvel nodded curtly and pulled his son over to the refreshments table. If there was one thing Blake knew, it was when a man was whipped. He could have continued, but what kind of example would he have been to his Katniss and Peeta.  
  
So instead, the Everdeens made their way to John Mellark just as he was called in to the classroom. John's eyes questioned Blake, but he only shrugged.  
  
"Daddy?" Katniss questioned. "Did Mr. Marvel say something about Peeta and me?"  
  
"Nothing worth worrying about baby girl," he hugged her close and then pulled Peeta in. "How about this weekend we close up the cabin for the winter? One last round of hotdogs before the snow flies." Both children nodded excitedly knowing that closing the cabin was nearly as fun as opening it in the spring.  
  
By and large, Marvel did keep his promise not to threaten and bully his customers. Although, it probably had more to do with the fact that a fair percentage of his business left that day than Blake's words about his future. Dallas, on the other hand, continued to mix it up with Peeta and Katniss, even once bullying Prim and her little friend, Rue.  
  
But during their mid-teens, it became painfully clear that Dallas had a huge crush on Katniss. Peeta and she were not an official couple yet but they had, by that point, done a fair share of fooling around — just not openly. Dallas wrongly assumed that Katniss was a free agent so when he asked her to the ninth grade spring dance, he was surprised to find himself escorted away from her locker by Peeta who twisted his arm against his back enough to create a fair amount of leverage.  
  
Dallas never really did give up on Katniss. He just used more caution to flirt with her when Peeta was not around. Unfortunately for him, he lacked grace and skill when it came to flirting and he came off as bumbling and inept. Or maybe it was fortunate for him, because Katniss never did figure out that he was flirting. Because if she had … .


	13. Thanksgiving Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hunger Games characters belong to Suzanne Collins.
> 
> Thanks for reading and feedback.

Blake looked at the odd little group gathered around his dining room table awaiting their Thanksgiving meal.  
  
His eyes first sought out his wife, Jen. Married for fourteen years, he still felt in awe of the fact that she was his and he was hers. She still managed to steal his breath away with a mere smile. Jen must have felt his eyes on her because she looked up suddenly and caught him openly staring, which in turn caused her to smile and his heart to stutter — just a little.  
  
On her left was little Primmy, the picture of her mother. Already six almost seven, Primmy was the chatterbox in the family and could talk everyone's ear right off. She was speaking now, gesturing wildly and giggling. He smiled in spite of the fact that he couldn't quite make out what she was saying.  
  
Next to Primmy was Katniss, who listened with rapt attention to her little sister. Since the day Primmy was born, Katniss had been the protective older sister. Blake knew that Katniss loved Primmy more than almost anyone else. She was his dark-haired angel and he felt a tug in his chest. When she was small, Jen called Kit Kat his shadow. Her olive skin and gray eyes left no room for doubt as to her heritage. Thanks to his Italian mother and Irish father, Blake had passed on his skin tone and eye color to his oldest.  
  
His eyes drifted to Peeta who sat next to Katniss. Somehow the little boy had managed to temporarily tame the mop of blonde curls on his head and Blake wondered whether hair gel would be a permanent part of his grooming from this point forward. Peeta's blue eyes sparkled as he listened to the conversation between Katniss and Prim.  Blake thought back to his first meeting with the shy little boy. At the time, he was fairly plump and his blonde hair appeared almost like cotton. In five years, his hair at darkened somewhat, and he had lost most of his baby fat but he had not lost his sweet good nature.  
  
A loud belch pulled Blake's eyes across the table to Haymitch Abernathy. Happenstance had brought the football coach to their table. Blake appreciated and respected the man who other's barely tolerated. Some years before, Abernathy lost his wife and daughter in a car accident. After that, he started drinking. Because the town was small, everyone knew about his problem but instead of offering him shoulders to lean on, they decided instead to talk.  
  
Two nights before, Blake met the coach shopping in the soup aisle and decided then and there to extend an invitation which the older man seemed to jump at. There was always plenty of food around the Everdeen table.  
  
Next to the coach was John Mellark, Peeta's father. A dozen years earlier, hell six years earlier, if someone would have mentioned to Blake that John would one day eat at his table, he would have laughed at them. There was once a time when John held the heart of Jen but foolishness caused him to lose it. Still, Blake would have bristled at having a former rival in such close proximity to his wife. But John had never been anything but friendly. If he regretted losing Jen, he kept it to himself. John was handsome, and just as anyone could tell that Blake and Katniss were father and daughter, it was equally apparent that John and Peeta were father and son.  
  
"Blake," Jen's quiet voice pulled him from his reverie.  
  
He cleared his throat, causing silence to wash across the table. "We have a little tradition here at our Thanksgiving table and that is to say what we are thankful for." Haymitch stirred in his seat self-consciously. "We'll start with Primmy."  
  
Prim sat up straighter, "I'm thankful for a lot. I'm thankful for my best friend, Rue. I'm thankful for my new kitten, Buttercup. I'm thankful that I got new boots for winter. But most of all, I'm thankful for my family, expecially Katniss and Peeta." Blake nodded and noticed that the boy's cheeks were pink. "Because Peeta brings us delicious cupcakes," Prim finished.  
  
"Kit Kat?"  
  
Katniss cleared her throat. She wasn't the public speaker that her little sister was but she forged ahead. "I'm thankful for you Dad, and the things we get to do together. I'm thankful for you, Mom, and the way you keep everything together. I'm thankful for you, Prim, for being such a great little sister." Prim smiled widely. Katniss turned to Peeta, "I'm thankful for you, Peeta and everything you do for me and being the best friend in the world."  
  
Peeta quickly enveloped her in a hug causing Coach Abernathy to clear his throat. "Hey, no hugging between my star quarterback and my star running back." Everyone laughed.

Without prompting, Peeta began, "I'm thankful for you, Dad, and my job at the bakery. And I'm thankful to Mom and Blake," Peeta's use of the word "Mom" was not lost on John but he refused to react, "for allowing me to spend so much time here. I'm thankful for Primmy who is just like my little sister. But mostly, I'm thankful for you Katniss, for being my very best friend in the world." She quickly returned Peeta's hug much to the exasperation of Haymitch.  
  
"John?"  
  
"I'm thankful for your family, Blake, who has done so much better by my Peeta than I could have done."  
  
Blake nodded and smiled reassuringly. "Coach?"  
  
"Well … I … uh … I'm thankful that my fifth grade team had a better season than the varsity team," Katniss and Peeta grinned at him. "And, I'm thankful to be here with you folks and not alone again this year." He raised his glass to them.  
  
Blake hesitated a moment before nodding to Jen. "I'm thankful for our children, Primmy, Katniss and, of course, Peeta. All three of you make my days brighter. I'm thankful for such a wonderful husband, and I'm thankful for good friends to share our table."  
  
It was Blake's turn, and he looked around the table before beginning. "Well, it may be cliche´but I'm mostly thankful for my family. My wife Jen, who is a perfect homemaker and my wife of fourteen years. My big girl, Katniss, who shows strength and leadership that I envy. My baby girl, Primmy, who reminds me more and more of her mama with each passing day. And, I can't forget Peeta, whose quiet calm evens the balance in a household of mostly women-folk." He winked in Jen's direction. "I'm thankful for the friends who have joined us, especially you John, because you have selflessly shared your boy with us. I am also thankful for a good job in a fine office, where I push paper instead of coal."  
  
As he finished his list, Blake raised his glass and the others followed suit and took a drink of the cranberry juice that filled each.  
  
"Whewee!" Haymitch exclaimed. "Now that's got some kick to it!" Everyone laughed.  
  
Blake reached for the turkey and began to carve. A drumstick each for Katniss and Peeta. Prim preferred just a bit of the dark meat, while all the adults preferred white meat. The potatoes and stuffing were passed from one to another, along with two kinds of vegetables and gravy. John had supplied fresh dinner rolls and pie.  
  
There were moments when Blake felt his fortune too great. He remembered that food was not always plentiful when he and Jen first married. Their first Thanksgiving was so much different. That year they had a hamburger patty and macaroni, but it had been good and full of promise. After awhile, everyone settled in and ate, the sounds of knives and forks filling the air. Eventually, everyone was as stuffed as the turkey had been fresh out of the oven.  
  
Blake pushed back from the table slightly and rubbed his still flat belly indulgently. "Before we have our pie, why don't we let our meal settle. You folks go into the living room and visit, while I clean the table off." Everyone but John headed for the living room. "Now, John, you are our guest, I can't let you help with the dishes."  
  
"Nonsense, Blake, I always do the dishes at home. Wouldn't seem right if I didn't help out here."  
  
Blake was also accustomed to doing the dishes, but the main difference was that Jen usually did the cooking. From what Peeta said, John was usually the maker of the meals in his home. Today, though, he shrugged it off and allowed John to pitch in and help because the amount of dishes was a little overwhelming.  
  
After several minutes of working in comfortable silence, John spoke up. "I've been meaning to talk to you Blake, about Peeta." Blake nodded and continued to scrape the remains of the potatoes into a tupperware container. "I feel like I've taken advantage of you and Jen, and I don't want Peeta to become a bur … ."  
  
"Whoa, hold on there," Blake interrupted as he looked him full in the eye. "Peeta is nothing but welcome here. He always has been and always will be."  
  
"People have started to talk about how close he and Katniss are," John whispered. "It got back to Cynthia and she's all pissy about the amount of time he spends here."  
  
"Well, I don't give a rat's … butt about the talk, John. But is that why Peeta has to go on the skiing trip." John nodded. "No offense to you, but it seems like a hell of a wrong time for her to suddenly try for Mother of the Year honors. I don't trust her with Peeta. Not for ten days. Not on ski slopes."  
  
"I know. I wasn't explicitly invited but I'm thinking about closing the bakery early and going with them. I would feel more comfortable being there for Peeta's sake."  
  
"What do you mean, you weren't 'explicitly invited'?"  
  
"Just that. Cynthia told me I wasn't 'explicitly invited' just her and the boys. But still, who would really fault a man for wanting to spend time with his family? I mean usually we have at least Christmas together."  
  
Blake thought back to the past few years. Peeta had spent Thanksgiving with him since first grade. That same year has also started his Christmas pattern. Peeta arrived Christmas Eve and took part in the traditional one gift exchange, and then he would stay overnight and get up with Katniss and Prim for the remaining gifts. Just before noon he would go home for dinner and gift opening. By late afternoon he was back again usually with a practical gift like mittens and a hat. Last year, he had been really excited to receive a set of decorating tools from his parents.  
  
The other two boys always received a lot of presents ranging from new clothes to video games. Peeta was so accustomed to his lack of gifts that he seemed unbothered as he would recount their presents. "Derek got a cool Super Nintendo set with some games."  Blake had wondered how John could allow the favoritism to go unchecked.  
  
As if he could feel the judgement, John cleared his throat. "I used to try to balance it out for Peeta, buy him some extras but it was impossible without making things worse. Then he started coming here, and I could give him things with your help." True, John always contributed generously for all three children.  
  
"Well, I'm going to miss the little guy this year," Blake conceded, "and Katniss may do physical harm if something happens, just so you know."  
  
John laughed heartily at his words, "She's a bit protective that one."  
  
"A bit," Blake concurred.  
  
As if on cue, Katniss popped her head in, "Daddy is it okay if Peety and I go outside and build a snowman before pie?"  
  
He nodded, "Bundle up though Kit Kat, it's colder than it looks and see if Primmy wants to go out too."  She nodded and quickly left the room.  
  
For several moments, their excited voices could be heard as they dressed in their winter gear. The sound of the front door slamming signaled their exit. Soon the trio reappeared in the back yard where they stood in a small huddle discussing the project. To an unpracticed eye, Katniss would have looked like the odd person out with her dark brown braids hanging loose beneath her knit hat.  
  
It took Blake a moment to realize that John was standing at his shoulder with a look of awe on his face. "They're something else, aren't they?"  
  
John smiled, "They are indeed. I know they're just kids but I get the feeling that somehow, they were … made for each other."  
  
"I know," Blake laughed. "Did you know that when Peeta was five he asked my permission to marry her? Not right away, of course, but he was dead serious."  
  
"Huh! Well, here's hoping he has more brains than his old man." Blake knew, of course, that John was talking about his relationship with Jen.  
  
"Everything happens for a reason."  
  
"Yes it does," John agreed, as he continued to watch the children.  
  
Eventually, the dishes were done and the children were back inside. Pie was served and Haymitch regaled them with stories of his youth taking care to mind his language around his young audience. They heard about his days chasing raccoons through the trees in his native Tennessee, and about his days as a young football star in high school and later in college. Both children and adults were enraptured by his tales.  
  
Haymitch left just before seven with a wave goodbye, "Got to go see the wife and girl before it gets too late."  
  
"Isn't his wife dead?" Peeta asked as the door shut.  
  
"He's probably going to … the cemetery," Katniss answered in a whisper, just before goosing his ribs causing him to jump.  
  
"Hey!" Peeta said, before grinning broadly at her. "Do people always go to the cemetery to visit someone who dies?"  
  
"I would never go," Katniss said emphatically. "Not to a cemetery. No way." But little did she know that over the course of the next several years, she would spend countless hours at the cemetery.  
  
"That's enough children. You're scaring Primmy. Go upstairs and get ready for bed and you can spend the evening watching the Thanksgiving Day specials while I get supper ready.  
  
The children clamored upstairs and soon returned — Primmy with her jammies with feet in them, and Katniss and Peeta wearing their matching Buzz Lightyear pajamas. Neither would ever admit to their friends at school that they wore Toy Story pajamas, much less matching ones but they did, and they liked it.  
  
Jen placed the "pickings" as she called them on the table for everyone to help themselves. The children laid on their bellies in front of the television with their plates in front of them as they watched "A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving" followed by "A Charlie Brown Christmas."  
  
Primmy was the first to go down. Peeta was yawning deeply and Katniss's eyes were drooping. It had been a long day as they had gotten up well before the parade so that they wouldn't miss anything. Peeta laid is head on his arms while Katniss blinked furiously trying to stay awake. But she too had her limits, and her head drooped after only a few minutes.  
  
Blake and Jen moved to take the children upstairs. "May I help?" John whispered. Jen looked to Blake who offered a small nod. John reached down to pick up his sleeping son, while Blake stooped to pick up Katniss, and Jen cradled the sleeping Prim.  
  
Upstairs, Katniss and Prim no longer shared a room so Jen continued down the hall to her room, while John and Blake entered Katniss's room. Blake gingerly lifted her over the railing to the top bunk while John placed Peeta in the lower bunk. Both children readjusted themselves under the cool blankets but neither awakened.  
  
The men quietly backed out of the room and headed back downstairs. "Thanks for having me," John extended his hand.  
  
"Anytime, and let's get this Christmas thing figured out. If you need someone to watch the bakery for you, I'm sure Jen and Katniss would help out."  
  
John nodded and gave Blake a cheerful smile. "I appreciate that and I'll keep it in mind. Good night."  
  
As the door closed, Jen arrived at Blake's side and he wrapped his arm around her. "Appreciate what?"  
  
"I sort of volunteered you and Katniss to help out at the bakery at Christmastime so that John could go on the skiing trip."  
  
"Ah, I see. Well, I'll do anything to help out."  
  
"That's my girl," he kissed her gently. "You know what, Mrs. Everdeen?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I'm mostly thankful for you." He kissed her a bit more deeply as she laughed lightly.  
  
"Hmmm. You say that now," she teased.  
  
"I'll say it again and again. As long as you let me." With that, he swept her into his arms and carried her upstairs as she giggled.


	14. The Incident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hunger Games characters belong to Suzanne Collins.
> 
> Thanks for the feedback.

The debate would rage on for months in the coffee shops around the small town as to what really happened that snowy December afternoon. The residents were about evenly split as to the culpability of Cynthia Mellark. Everyone seemed to know someone who witnessed the incident and would add their own "details" to the mix.  
  
"I heard that she grabbed him by his hood and just shoved," said one man with coal dust under his fingernails.  
  
"Well, that's not true, Ben. The boy was wearing a hoodless jacket and she wrapped both arms around him to keep … ."  
  
"Hell, Rosy," yet another person weighed in. "Have you ever seen the way she treats that boy? If he didn't look so much like his damn father, you'd think he was adopted. He's like a male version of Cinderella. Cinderfella." He laughed at his own joke. "Top it off, won't you Rosy?"  
  
So the debate went on endlessly although never within earshot of one of the Mellarks. Whenever one of them came into a room, the whispers would die on the lips. Really though, it was impossible for all those so-called witnesses to have some hidden pieces of information because the one thing the five principals agreed on was the fact that the street was mostly vacant except for themselves. The rest, unfortunately, was as murky as a puddle after a summer rain.  
  
The morning of the incident saw an unusually high volume of customers enter Mellark's Bakery at the end of Main Street. Everyone was in a near-panic to make sure their orders got in for the Holidays after a small advertisement ran in the top corner of the back page of the local paper indicating that Mellark's would cut off orders the following Monday for the Holidays. All orders would be completed on December 23, and the Bakery would be closed through January 1.  
  
John Mellark had failed to tell Cynthia of his plans, and that was an irritation under the best circumstances but this close to the Holidays seemed like outright defiance to her. December was one of the busiest months of the year and cutting off sales one day early and then closing for more than a week seemed ridiculously hair-brained.  
  
She had railed at John for the next two days, yet somehow the announcement had worked to their benefit and more orders than ever before poured in. By Saturday, the line extended around the interior of the bakery and out the door, part way down the block. All five Mellarks were in the front handling customers.  
  
John posted signs around to assist the customers. JJ and Cynthia were in charge of regular customers interested in making immediate purchases. Derrick was in charge of Christmas cookies and confections. John handled sweet breads, rolls and other pastries, while ten-year-old Peeta was in charge of specialty decorations.  
  
His 3-D cupcakes were still a hit. He was currently specializing in Snowman cupcakes featuring dollops of white frosting, appropriately decorated with silly hats and scarves. He had even managed to create twig like arms for his creations. He also had a Santa cupcake with his cartoon-like Santa sitting atop a red velvet cupcake. Once Cynthia realized the boon to the business that Peeta was, she began treating him somewhat better. No one was fooled, however, least of all Peeta who understood that his three dollar cupcakes were at the heart of her improved behavior.  
  
"Yes, ma'am," Peeta answered politely as he sat with his small sketchpad in front of him drawing small angels, "all white with yellow hair and blue eyes." The woman absolutely beamed at the little boy's drawing.   
  
"That's it. Perfect! I'll take one dozen."  
  
"Okay," Peeta began writing out the slip. "The total is $36. We require fifty percent in advance." She nodded quickly and fished out a twenty from her purse and handed it to him. He quickly made change for her, handing it back with a crooked smile. "Thank you very much. You have a nice day."  
  
John watched him interact with the customers and realized he was a natural. JJ was stiff and formal, much like his mother. Derrick often seemed bored with his role, but Peeta always offered the perfect mix of warmth and enthusiasm.   
  
The bakery usually closed at noon on Saturday, but the crowd never let up. Even when the shelves had been emptied of even the day-old breads and pastries, people continued to walk in and John could sense that, for the first time in years, the bakery was going to set a December record. Not just set, but blow it out of the water!  
  
Once Cynthia and JJ began taking orders things went much quicker. At half past one, John made his way to the end of the line and placed the closed sign on the door and locked it, explaining to those remaining that they could still exit unimpeded but requested they pull the door shut upon leaving.  
  
By two o'clock, the bakery was empty and a grumbling JJ began to sweep the front before Derrick came behind with a mop. Both boys had plans with their girlfriends and they were already late. John began tallying up the orders for the day while Cynthia cleared the cash register. Peeta went to the back to begin cleanup because he too had plans with his girl.   
  
Ironically, the years would prove that Peeta's relationship was the only one that would last the test of time. Yet, JJ and Derrick both felt that their's was much stronger than their kid brother's crush.  
  
"Mom, am I done yet?" JJ called out. Cynthia held up a finger as she counted the pennies. Finally, "Yes, JJ, you may leave and give your little girlfriend our love."   
  
JJ rolled his eyes but managed, "Of course, Mother, and I'll tell her how much you are looking forward to the skiing trip." With that, he was out the door.  
  
"Mom? May I leave?" Derrick asked, but she had only just started on his cash box. Cynthia counted and recounted, a frown deepening. Derrick fidgeted by the door knowing that the frown meant nothing good. After several minutes she made a notation and set it aside, taking John's box which tallied perfectly between orders and cash.  
  
Peeta finished up in the back and came out front to watch as his mother finished counting his box. His stack of slips was huge in comparison. A slight smile formed on her face as Peeta's box alone accounted for nearly one thousand dollars in pre-sales. His box tallied perfectly to the penny.  
  
"Mother, may I go now?" Peeta asked timidly, still uncertain as to who this woman was that was treating him much differently than even two weeks ago.  
  
She didn't bother to look but merely nodded, as she returned her attention to Derrick's box. Peeta hurried to the back to get his jacket and pulled the back door open when he noticed that there was a small package just outside. He picked it up and saw his mother's name, so he decided to bring it to the front.  
  
"Derrick?" He heard his mother's raised voice, and that should have been warning enough. "Your box is short by eight dollars."  
  
"What?" Derrick seemed surprised. Peeta was none too shocked because making change was still far beyond his particular skill set. "That can't be."  
  
"Well, it is. I've counted three times, and each time I'm short by eight dollars." Peeta moved forward quickly and placed the small box on the counter before heading for the door. Cynthia glanced down quickly and a blush creeped up her cheeks. "Peeta, where did you get this?" She called, her voice taking on an all too familiar menacing tone.  
  
"It was by the back door," Peeta called as he reached for the front door. She narrowed her eyes at her youngest, and Derrick noted the shift.  
  
"Mom, I had to leave my box with Peeta for a couple of minutes while I peed and he probably took the money from my box."  
  
"That's a lie!" Peeta spat and reached out to shove his older brother who was a head taller but unprepared for the assault and tumbled backward.  
  
"Is that true?" Cynthia said as she came out from behind the counter.  
  
"Cynthia, I don't think Peeta took the money. It's only eight dollars," John tried to ease the tension.  
  
"Shut. Up. Empty your pockets, Peeta," she hissed, and Peeta complied quickly emptying two pieces of bubble gum, a dog-eared note, a tiny pencil and the remnants of a sucker from his jeans before he turned the pocket lining out. "Back pockets," she demanded and he slipped his hand in and pulled out the small leather wallet Katniss had given him for his birthday.  
  
Cynthia reached for it and pulled it open revealing a single one dollar bill inside and a few random pieces of paper. "Ah-huh!" Cynthia exclaimed in triumph as she pulled out the dollar. "Where's the rest of it?"  
  
"That's my allowance for helping out at the bakery." John actually gave Peeta much more but the dollar was all Cynthia allowed so he never carried the rest in his wallet unless he was treating Katniss and Prim to ice cream or something. Instead, his savings safely rested in a piggy bank atop Katniss's dresser. The money would come in handy in the not too distant future.  
  
"Allowance, my ass, you probably spent that all on candy and gum you little twit."   
  
"No, I … ."  
  
"That's enough, Cynthia," John said. "Leave the boy alone."  
  
"Oh, precious Peeta," her tone was mocking. "'Leave the boy alone!' You stay out of this you worthless piece of … ."  
  
"Enough!" John bellowed as he pulled Peeta's wallet from her and handed it back to him. "Pick that up and go ahead, Peeta. Have a nice time."  
  
Peeta quickly grabbed for his stuff on the table and reached for the door as his mother turned her attention to his father. He could hear her voice low and menacing. "Don't ever do that to me again, John Mellark."  
  
The door closed and Peeta stepped on the sidewalk and headed to the crosswalk where he punched the button and waited for the signal to walk. Just then, Cynthia emerged from the bakery yelling at Peeta to return. He glanced quickly at her and then back to the light which was taking an eternity to turn.  
  
What happened next defied logic. The driver of the car swore that Peeta seemed to fall into the street and that his mother was attempting to drag him back to the curb.  
  
Mrs. Cartwright, however, who was arranging a new window display, firmly believed that Cynthia pushed Peeta into the street.   
  
The old woman across the street confirmed that she hardly had a birdseye view of things, but also told Officer Cray that the woman was yelling something at the little boy before he tumbled from the curb into the path of the oncoming car.  
  
Cynthia, of course, denied all wrong doing and affirmed that she was simply trying to keep Peeta from hurting himself. "He's a clumsy child," she explained to Cray, even as the ambulance attendants lifted his small form to the waiting gurney.  
  
As for Peeta, he would never admit what he thought happened, preferring instead to take the safer course and deny any recall. But he did remember. He remembered the jolt of his mother's hand between his shoulder blades which sent him into the intersection. There was no squealing of tires, and thankfully, the car was driving slowly because of the icy conditions. There was only pain. Sharp pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter of "Middle School" will be out next week — Peeta's injuries, Katniss's reactions, but most of all more together time for the young pair.


	15. Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hunger Games characters belong to Suzanne Collins.
> 
> Thanks for reading.

John put the finishing touches on the mashed potatoes that he was preparing for Christmas dinner at the Everdeens. The house was blissfully quiet. Cynthia, JJ and Derrick has left for their skiing trip the previous morning and he had spent the rest of the day working feverishly in the bakery, as it was one of the busiest days of the year.  
  
He didn't mind though. In fact, even as business mounted through the day, the tension of the past few weeks left his body.   
  
After Peeta's accident, he questioned Cynthia more than once about her role and each time she assured him that Peeta had slipped from the curb. Still, the whole thing gnawed at John. Blake's words at the hospital about protecting Peeta had struck a chord with him. He had done the best he could and still his little boy had nearly died. Maybe his best was not good enough.  
  
The days immediately following the accident were tense in the Mellark household. Cynthia had spent the better part of three hours at the police station answering questions regarding her role. Someone had reported seeing her shove Peeta in front of the car. Somehow she managed to explain it all away but she returned home in a surly mood decrying Peeta's clumsiness to anyone who would listen.  
  
JJ ended up in a fight at school because one of his friends called Cynthia a "bitch." As far as John was concerned, it was the truth and he would not have risked a black eye defending her but JJ loved his mother despite her flaws.  
  
Three days following the accident, John walked into the house after visiting Peeta at the hospital and was told that a family meeting was underway. During the meeting, Cynthia announced that the planned ski trip would go on as scheduled regardless of whether Peeta was out of the hospital or not. He considered arguing but decided against it. No point really.  
  
The next day, while Peeta was still in ICU, JJ drove his mother to the hospital to break the news. That evening, Cynthia was outraged but covering it with a too tight smile.  
  
"That little shit just laid there and had the audacity to say, 'have a nice trip, Mother,'" she mimicked Peeta's voice. "Like he didn't even care whether we went or not. I've a good mind to take the brat with us and make him sit in the room all day."  
  
John's eyes widened at her revelation but he quickly masked it. "You certainly could, Cynthia, but I expect someone in the hotel would want him to be supervised during that time."  
  
She huffed out a breath. "I suppose you're right," she grumbled. "Damn kid."  
  
"He probably does want you to have a good time," John reasoned. "At any rate, you should go and enjoy yourself." John's tone was so similar to Peeta's that she looked up sharply but she considered John too dumb to use "psychology" on her so she acquiesced.   
  
"I will. We will. Won't we boys?" JJ gave an enthusiastic whoop but Derrick merely nodded. He had been exceptionally quiet since the accident and John wondered what he had witnessed when he had ran after his mother that day.  
  
A few days later, though, her plans very nearly came to a grinding halt when Dr. Heavensbee met with them.  
  
"Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Mellark, please sit," he indicated two chairs off to the side. "I'll get right to the point. Peeta is doing exceptionally well and we will be releasing him in a few days but he's still going to need constant care."  
  
Cynthia blanched. John was already working from pre-dawn to dusk in the bakery trying to stay ahead of the orders. She, on the other hand, had taken on more of a life of leisure since moving to their new home. She no longer felt compelled to take a daily shift. The doctor's news meant only one thing to her — she would have to take care of the boy. That, was intolerable!  
  
"But certainly you won't release him until he's … self-sufficient."  
  
"We'll have him up on crutches in a few days, but he's going to need help with his physical therapy, as well as bathing and possibly just getting around those first few days."  
  
"But … when … do you expect to release him?"  
  
"In about a week or so. We want to start some therapy now and possible switch him to a different cast but I would expect by next … ."  
  
"We will be going skiing. That is, my boys and I will be skiing." The doctor blinked rapidly. "I don't suppose you could … keep him until after New Year's?" She tried her sweetest smile.  
  
The doctor looked at her sternly. "If I were you Mrs. Mellark, I would make other plans. Now, I would like to go over his therapy."  
  
But Cynthia ceased listening at that point. Peeta was messing up her life again. John could sense her seething and if the doctor could as well, he managed to cover well. A few minutes later, John shook the doctor's hand, pleased that Peeta was doing so well.  
  
The doctor ushered them out of the office and they moved down the highly polished hallway. "What the hell, John? Now I have to give up my trip to take care of that ungrateful brat?" Her voice was low but her tone was menacing.  
  
"Not now!" John growled.  
  
She huffed out a breath as they hurried toward the parking lot. John had hoped the accident would soften Cynthia's attitude toward their youngest but instead it fueled the fire.   
  
Once inside the car, Cynthia started in. "Look, there's no way he's going to mess up this vacation. He clearly can't go with and I'm not staying back, so you need to figure it out."  
  
Cynthia actually gave John the opening her was looking for. A way to take Peeta out of harm's way. "Go ahead, Cynthia. Go ahead on your trip. I will figure it out." He already had a tentative plan in his mind. He intended to speak with the Everdeens and offer to pay Jen to act as a nurse to Peeta.  
  
His opportunity came two nights later when he ran into the Everdeens at the hospital. He barely finished with his predicament when Jen spoke up. "He can stay with us while he recovers." Blake nodded. "He's no bother and you don't need to pay me a thing. He's a wonderful little boy." But John insisted that he would help out with expenses.   
  
The days flew by as he was so busy with work and trips to the hospital. Eventually, the day arrived that he went to the hospital and signed Peeta's release forms and took him to the Everdeens. He stood back as Jen opened her arms in welcome to Peeta and watched as his youngest son hugged her tightly and emitted a soft sigh. In that moment, John admitted that he wished his life were different.  
  
He visited daily and both Blake and Jen always welcomed him. Sometimes he played games with the children, and other times he filled Peeta in on the happenings at the bakery. Without a doubt, Peeta was the one who exhibited the most talent for the business.  
  
John, though, was looking forward to Christmas Day with the Everdeens. He longed for a peaceful meal and the shared intimacy of a family holiday. He volunteered to cook the meal, and at first Jen refused, but he wouldn't hear of it. He had already purchased a large ham and said the rest of the meal was really no problem. Yet, it drove him out of bed at not quite five to begin preparations.  
  
So now, everything was ready and he was in the process of packing it into his car. Having added catering to the long list of things that Mellark's supplied, he had access to all the necessary hot and cold storage.  
  
He arrived just before noon, and Peeta greeted him with a broad smile. "Hey, Dad! Look what Santa gave me," Peeta pointed in the direction of the TV where his new Nintendo 64 was sitting. John dipped his head slightly, knowing full well the Santa crap had not fooled his son.  
  
Jen and Blake helped to carry everything from the car, and it took only minutes to set up. Blake said a short prayer of thanks before everyone dished up their plates. They ate buffet style and sat in the living room so that it would be easier for Peeta. Katniss carried Peeta's plate as he made selections and John marveled at the size of the helpings but Peeta had no problem finishing it and even asked for seconds.  
  
He couldn't help but notice how attentive Peeta was whenever Katniss spoke. Sometimes she would lean in close and whisper something just for him, her eyes shining, and Peeta would grin in return. He wondered what kind of secrets ten-year-olds could have but found himself smilingly approvingly anyway. John knew that no matter what, he would never give Peeta the same advice that his father had given him. Deep down, though, he also knew that Peeta would never be foolish enough to listen even if he did.  
  
As the meal ended, Blake gathered the dishes, and Jen began washing. John joined them in the kitchen to pack up the leftovers and take the pie and cookies out for later. When he returned to the living room, he saw Peeta and Katniss sound asleep on the couch. He watched for several seconds before returning to the kitchen.  
  
John stood quietly, lost in thought. Jen turned from the sink and noticed him standing there with tears glistening in his eyes. "Something wrong, John?"  
  
He shook his head, "No … um … I just want to thank you both for everything you've done for my Peeta. I can't imagine what his life would have been like these past years without the refuge of your home. Thank you so much. I will repay you somehow."  
  
Blake stood with a dish towel in his hand, pondering his words. He knew what it was like to owe someone, but Peeta was like a son to him. "No need, John," but then he cleared his throat. "Actually, I know this is Christmas and all but I need to ask straight up, why are you still with that bi… Cynthia?" Blake finished a little lamely.  
  
His voice was barely above a whisper when he answered. "It wasn't always this way. She loved JJ and Derrick, right from the first. She's a good mother to them. But I think our marriage was a huge letdown to her. I've never loved her like a husband should love a wife. We both felt trapped. When she was pregnant with Peeta, she perked up considerably. Hoping for … but then when he was born, it was like a switch inside her shut off."  
  
John glanced toward the Everdeens who had a marriage the polar opposite of his broken one. "I think somehow, in her mind, Peeta was to blame for everything. I've not told anyone this …," he hesitated. "When Cynthia got pregnant with Peeta, I was having an affair." There had been rumors, of course, but to hear the admission brought Jen up short and she inhaled sharply. "I … uh … the woman got pregnant and went to Cynthia and told her everything, hoping, I guess, that she would divorce me. Instead of getting angry, Cynthia cried and begged me to stop the affair because she too, was pregnant. I was flabbergasted. Cynthia and I had barely slept together."  
  
He sat down at the table. "Cynthia said that if I ever divorced her, she would take my boys and I would never see them again. That was it. I knew no matter what, I had to stay with Cynthia until the children were grown." John rubbed a hand across his face. "I'm ashamed to admit that I didn't stop the affair for several months. The woman was married to one of my best friends. Eventually, we stopped though and I didn't speak to her until two weeks before Peeta's birth when she called me from the hospital and told me she had a girl."  
  
John couldn't even look at them now. "Ironically, Cynthia got very excited because she believed that she too would have a girl. Well, you know the rest of the story."  
  
Blake and Jen were silent for several seconds. So many questions but none seemed entirely appropriate.   
  
"Since then, I've walked the straight and narrow though. I didn't want to give her anymore reason to hate Peeta. You're probably wondering about the girl." Blake and Jen nodded. "She's mine. You can tell through the eyes and the shade of her hair, not to mention the curls. But she calls someone else 'Daddy,' and that's probably better than the stigma of being born as the result of an affair. Her … her name is Judy Glimmer"  
  
Jen turned quickly away from him. Blake's confirmation of the rumors was almost too much. Hadn't he learned his lesson in high school? The lives of two children had been altered as the result of his actions.  
  
"Jen, I know what you're thinking. I wish I could justify it, but it's useless. I've paid penance for that affair for years and will for years to come. There are no excuses, and if I could, I would go back and alter history but I can't."  
  
His words sent her hurtling back in time to a very similar confession when he had told her about his dalliances. "Hard lessons to learn, John. I hope you have learned them well this time." She turned back to the dishes and struggled to put the whole thing from her mind not wanting to ruin Christmas.  
  
But John's words did affect the rest of the afternoon. The trio finished the dishes and returned to the living room to open the gifts that John had brought. The mood of the adults was somber and the two older children picked up on it immediately, toning down their exuberance as they opened their gifts. Only little Primmy screeched wildly as she opened her presents.  
  
Jen couldn't help but wonder whether John was trying to make up for all the lost years with his own daughter as she watched Prim open a Baby Annabell doll (that had been sold out for weeks), stroller, high chair, and other toys.  
  
Katniss and Peeta each got a Teksta toy dog, assorted Pokemon goodies, and Lego sets that would allow them to build their own mechanized vehicles. He also bought Peeta a desktop easel, brushes and canvas. Katniss got a new pair of hunting gloves and boots, obviously chosen with the help of Blake.  
  
The men began cleaning up the discarded paper and helping the children free their toys from their boxes, as Jen moved to the kitchen to start coffee. She was so lost in thought, she did not hear John come up behind her until he cleared his throat.  
  
"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."  
  
"It's okay."  
  
"Jen, I'm sorry for dropping all that on you. I know what you're thinking but it was over ten years ago. I should have known better. But it's behind me now."  
  
"What about the little girl? What about Judy Glimmer? From what I've seen of her, she has kind of a crush on Peeta and isn't her sister dating JJ? Wait, isn't the ski trip with the Glimmers?"  
  
John nodded. "Yes, well, it's complicated. Peeta can't stand Judy and … ."  
  
"John, that may not always be the case once he hits his teenage years. You and her mother need to be honest with Judy." Jen took in the look of horror on John's face. "Does her father know?"  
  
"He didn't at first," John admitted, "but Royce hasn't exactly been a saint himself. They split up for awhile but got back together for the sake of the kids."  
  
Jen exhaled and shook her head. "I'm all for keeping families together but if there's discord among the parents, sometimes it's better to let go. But for the sake of the children and any future embarrassment, someone needs to tell them they are … half-siblings," she whispered as she looked quickly to the living room.  
  
He nodded. "My therapist has been urging me to tell them, but I don't know where to start. In fact, he urged me to talk about the affair as part of my therapy. You and Blake are the first ones. Based on your reactions, I'm not so sure talking is a good idea."  
  
"It just caught us all by surprise, John. Maybe you should let Cynthia know what you need to do, and then talk to the Glimmers together. I'm sure they will be reluctant, but you have to understand that a few moments of discomfort now, might well spare everyone huge embarrassment later."   
  
"Makes sensé," John concurred. "But you know, I don't want her to take it out on Peeta."  
  
Jen sighed. "It's ridiculous that she blames Peeta for your infidelities but why don't you tell them when they arrive home from the skiing trip. Peety will still be here for at least a month and that will give her time to cool down I would think. Besides, you're not exactly blindsiding her. She knows, so … ."  
  
"You're right, and it would be better all the way around. Thanks, you've actually helped me a lot, Jen, and I want you to know how sorry I am about everything that happened back in high school."  
  
"Well, John, if it's any consolation, I believe I ended up with the right man." John merely nodded as he began cutting the pie.  
  
After he and Jen spoke, the mood lifted somewhat; although, Jen was still reeling at his confession.  
  
They played card games and board games to pass the time. The evening meal was mostly the sweets that John had brought with him, along with Peeta's cupcakes. John complimented Peeta about the smoothness of the frosting and the absolute perfection of each small masterpiece.   
  
"This boy has more talent in one hand than all of the other Mellark men put together!" Peeta beamed.  
  
After supper, they settled back into the living room where Blake took out his guitar and he and Katniss serenaded the group with Christmas carols. Even though she was still a child, she was an outstanding singer. Peeta stared at Katniss with a look of pure adoration on his face that made John smile. John knew in his heart that if Katniss would allow it, there would be only one girl for Peeta, and he would never be as foolish as his father.  
  
John stayed much later than he had planned but he didn't really want to leave his son and the warmth of the Everdeens.   
  
After bidding them goodnight, he stepped out into the bitter cold. For a brief moment, he felt a surge of jealousy toward Blake but he caught himself and realized that his only real emotion should be gratitude for the care Blake took of his son. He puffed out a breath and shook his head slightly, before heading to his cold vehicle.  
  
  



	16. The Ultimatum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, a new chapter of "Middle School" will be up shortly.
> 
> Hunger Games characters belong to Suzanne Collins.
> 
> Thanks for reading.

Peeta shifted from one foot to another and winced slightly as he struggled to ease the pain in his bad leg. Eleven weeks in a cast, and two weeks in this soft cast had taken its toll on his stamina. He huffed out a breath, and attempted to wipe his brow on his t-shirt sleeve.  
  
The bakery was hot for this time of year. It wasn’t yet spring and still the thermometer outside measured seventy-five degrees. It was still too early to switch the boilers off and turn the coolers on, so the bakery kitchen was downright miserable.  
  
“Peeta,” his mother’s sharp voice cut through his misery. “Hurry up and finish. There’s another tray almost ready to come out of the oven.” Peeta sighed as he returned to decorating the naked cupcakes in front of him. Shamrocks, leprechauns, and tiny pots of gold topped the small mounds of cake.  
  
“Mom?” JJ raised his voice above the din of the mixer. Cynthia quickly turned toward her oldest son. Her favorite son. “St. Patty’s day is hardly one of our big sale days. Why are we busting our … hinies to make dozens of cupcakes that might not even sell?”  
  
JJ had a point and Cynthia knew it, but her stubbornness won out. “Because our profits have been in the dumpster these past few months and we need to increase sales wherever we can.”  
  
No one mentioned that her projected profits hit the skids the moment that Peeta collided with the car. In spite of being just ten-years-old, Peeta’s reputation as a decorator was already widely known. The fancy cupcakes he decorated had quickly become one of their top sellers. Tiny pieces of frosted art.  
  
Peeta quickly finished a pot of gold, and turned his attention to the rainbow.  
  
“Mom, I got a date tonight,” JJ complained.  
  
“All right dear. As soon as those next cupcakes are ready you can leave.” Her voice was sugary sweet and made Peeta want to vomit, but he was afraid if he did, she would make him clean it up and continue anyway.  
  
He stole a quick glance at the clock. Almost six and a Friday night to boot. He missed the Everdeens bustling household. It would almost be time for dinner and Katniss would be complaining about setting the table and Prim would be trying to help out by setting the silverware on in the wrong order. Peeta almost grinned, but then he remembered where he was at and why, and it made him wince again.  
  
After his hard cast came off two weeks before, his mother was quick to insist that he could come back to work in the bakery. His after school shifts left him tired and weak, and the previous weekend he had only spent Sunday with the Everdeens.  
  
On the plus side, he did see Jen on a near daily basis as she picked him up for physical therapy four mornings a week. It was his mother’s decision to schedule his therapy at six o’clock each day because she reasoned he was accustomed to baker’s hours. Her unstated reason, of course, was to free him up for a shift at the bakery. But the therapy really wiped him out and he struggled through the school day. The bakery shift was almost too much.  
  
“You’ve gone soft, Peeta,” Cynthia chided one evening at the supper table. “We need to toughen you up again.”  
  
His father cleared his throat but didn’t say anything. Derrick eyed his mother angrily as he cut another piece of pork chop. Ever since the so-called accident, the middle son had been a boiling pot of rage. But if Cynthia noticed, she didn’t comment.  
  
“The Everdeens spoiled you, waiting on you hand and foot.”  
  
Peeta wanted to argue, but he knew it was pointless. He had carried his share of the weight, helping prepare meals and picking up after himself. He folded clothes and made his bed.  
  
Peeta had looked at his father hoping he would intervene but he just sat by stirring his food. Ever since John had confessed to the family his affair from eleven years prior and the fact that he was Judy Glimmer’s father, he had been walking on eggshells.  
  
Cynthia had played the divorce card. At first he was relieved, but then she showed the rest of her hand. She would claim alienation of affection and tell the judge that John had never been faithful. A lie of course, because since Peeta’s birth he had never strayed. But then Cynthia told him that she would petition for full custody of the kids and would likely be be awarded custody.  
  
JJ was old enough that it did not matter. In fact, he would probably choose to go with his mother. Derrick too was approaching the age when he could decide between his parents, and would probably go with his dad. But it was Peeta, who was only ten, that would have no choice in the matter. He couldn’t do that to him, so he bowed to Cynthia’s wishes and pretended to be happy in his marriage.  
  
Still, Peeta did not understand his father’s seeming unwillingness to help him.  
  
Now, as he stood by the counter, he willed his hands to work faster. The pots of gold with the tiny rainbows were easiest and he found himself automatically decorating the majority of the cupcakes with them.  
  
“Peeta,” Cynthia said exasperatedly from directly behind him. “What are you doing? Leprechauns, Peeta. More leprechauns.”  
  
Peeta sighed again, but then an idea hit him. He swiftly covered the top of the cupcake in flesh colored fondant, topping it with a green hat with buckle, eyes, nose, mouth and mustache and he had a perfect leprechaun face.  
  
“Hmmm. I like it,” Cynthia said grudgingly. “Make the rest of the cupcakes with that design.”  
  
Peeta grinned. Not at her compliment, but rather the fact that it was by far the simplest, quickest design aside from a four leaf clover (which already covered five dozen cupcakes).  
  
After a half hour, Peeta called out, “Done!” It wasn’t his mother that appeared from the office, but rather his father.  
  
“Looks great!” John said as he surveyed his son’s work. Peeta kept his eyes down and nodded. His father knew that Peeta wasn’t happy with his seeming lack of support. John quickly began placing some of Peeta’s newest creations on a silver tray.  
  
“Peeta?” He waited a moment until Peeta’s eyes met his. “I called Blake a little while ago, and he will be over here in a few minutes to pick you up.” Peeta’s eyes brightened immediately, and a lopsided grin spread across his face. “You can spend the weekend over there, relax a little bit before you have to get back to school on Monday.”  
  
“But, I’m supposed to work the early shift tomorrow. If Mom … .”  
  
“Peeta, listen to me. I’ll take care of it. I promise. You deserve a nice relaxing weekend and you’ve barely had any chance to see Katniss since you came back home.”  
  
Peeta hesitated just a moment longer, before rushing into the storeroom to collect his coat. “Thanks, Dad.” Moments later, he emerged with his blue windbreaker and baseball cap.  
  
“Son, have a seat while you wait. Peeta limped to the stool and climbed up, groaning slightly as he did. His father watched him with concern. “How’s the leg, Peet?”  
  
“Okay. Hurts a little when I stand too much.”  
  
“I’ll get you a nice high chair so you can do your work.” Peeta nodded. “What’s the therapist say?”  
  
“Plenty of rest. Walk but don’t run. Elevate for swelling. Don’t overuse it.”  
  
A look of guilt found it’s way to his father’s eyes. “Peeta, I’m sorry, you know. I wish I could make it all better. I wish that your mother would ease up on you. I’m worried, though, that if I say something, it’ll be worse.” Peeta just nodded.  
  
“I love you, Peeta. I’ll try. I promise, I’ll try to keep her away from you.”  
  
“It’s okay, Dad. Really. That’s the way she is with me. I don’t need her anyway. I have Jen. She’s more like a mom to me than she is.”  
  
The words were out there, and it wasn’t a big leap for John to imagine that Blake was more of a father to him than he was. Jealousy flared just as he the door swung open revealing Blake. For a moment, John wanted to revoke the weekend with the Everdeens, but better judgement and his love of Peeta won out.  
  
He turned to Blake, “Here for my boy?”  
  
“Yep!” Blake responded with a smile. “Ready for a weekend of Dr. Mario, Peety?” Peeta laughed as he moved carefully from the stool. “Katniss was so excited. She’s even got a bunch of videos ready for an all-night marathon, if you’re up to it.”  
  
“‘Home Alone’?” Peeta questioned.  
  
“But of course, and ‘The Adams Family’, and a few others.”  
  
“I’m just glad we’re not going to watch ‘Home Alone 2’. It’s lame.”  
  
“So lame,” Blake responded with a wink. “But you’ll probably have to watch ‘Free Willy’ for about the ninetieth time.”  
  
“That’s okay. That I can take.”  
  
Peeta was smiling and laughing like John hadn’t seen him since he arrived home. He was once again a ten-year-old, carefree and happy. “Peeta, do you want to bring some of the special cupcakes with you?”  
  
“Oh yeah! But … .”  
  
“Go ahead and pick out a dozen.” Peeta grabbed a box and filled it with Leprechaun faces, little Leprechauns jumping over a pot of gold and even some of the pot of gold cupcakes, but steered clear of the four leaf clover cupcakes.  
  
“Have you had dinner yet, Peeta?” Blake inquired.  
  
“Uhh, not yet,” Peeta said, as he glanced toward the clock.  
  
“Good. We held supper for you. Katniss made spaghetti.”  
  
“Katniss did?” Peeta asked doubtfully. There were a lot of things that Katniss did well but cooking was not one of them.  
  
“Yep, Jen supervised.”  
  
“Oh. That’s good.” The words escaped his mouth and he quickly clamped a hand over his lips. “I mean … .”  
  
“No. You’re right, Peeta. Supervision of Katniss in the kitchen is a good thing.”  
  
They both laughed, and John stood by awkwardly. This was a part of his little boy's life he would never share. Another surge of jealously almost overwhelmed him, but he managed to control it.  
  
“Have a nice weekend, Peeta.”  
  
Peeta looked over his shoulder, a happy grin gracing his face. “Thanks, Dad! I will!”  
  
John smiled in return. “Bye.”  
  
“Bye, Dad!”  
  
“Good night, John,” Blake waved, ushering Peeta out the door and into his waiting truck.  
  
John stood quietly his hand raised slightly as he watched Peeta clamber up into the truck. He remembered his long ago promise that he would do what he could to give Peeta as much of a happy childhood as possible. And, if that was with the Everdeens, then so be it.  
  
Still it hurt to see the pure admiration in Peeta’s eyes as he looked up at Blake. He sighed and turned back to the kitchen. John generally took the early morning and late evening shifts now. They had purchased a new home three years before and it was both a blessing and a curse.  
  
The house was larger, probably more than sensible, but it had given John some peace from the Cynthia’s constant reminders that they were not living up to their potential status. Still, the house payment was huge, and so it meant spending more time at work.  
  
Working was not a problem. In fact, it was his solace. John covered the early morning and Cynthia would arrive around nine to take over the front, then he would return around three and begin baking for the evening rush. The boys would come in after school, and prep for the following day. Then, Cynthia would head home for supper, leaving John alone to finish the prep for the next day. He enjoyed his time alone, working out his frustrations on lumps of bread dough.  
  
The negative side, though, was that he was not around as much to protect Peeta from Cynthia. He knew she would never go as far as she did in December, because the police had never ruled the incident as an accident. Still, he worried about his little boy being alone with her for any length of time.  
  
John felt powerless. Divorce was not an option. So, he tried to do the best he could. The past week, he had kept Peeta at the bakery with him until it was time for him to go home. But the long days were taking its toll on little Peeta.  
  
He quickly mixed the ingredients for his best selling raisin and nut bread. The big mixer was running so he did not immediately hear Cynthia return. He did, however, see her as she rounded the counter.  
  
“Where’s Peeta?” Cynthia raised her voice above the whirring noise of the mixer.  
  
“He’s at the Everdeens,” John answered.  
  
“What the hell?” Cynthia’s eyes grew stormy. “Why is he over there? I’m going to go right over there and pick him up. That boy needs to start earning his keep.” She turned on her heel.  
  
But just as quickly, John flicked off the switch for the mixer and placed a hand on her shoulder, just firm enough to prevent her from leaving. “You will not go to the Everdeens. Do you hear me? You will not go over there and embarrass Peeta. He deserves a break.”  
  
Cynthia’s brow furrowed at his words. John knew better than to cross her. “What did you say? Are you really going to try to prevent me from going over there and taking my son home? MY SON?”  
  
“Yes.” Since their marriage nearly nineteen years prior, John had mostly given in to Cynthia to avoid arguments, but on this point, he decided to take a stand.  
  
“You are a piece of work, John Mellark. Did you ever consider how your behavior would effect me? Ever? Did you ever once think about anyone other than yourself when you were fucking Joan Glimmer? I’ll do whatever I please. Thank you! And that includes going over to take Peeta back from that Seam trash family.” Her face turned red with anger.  
  
“You will NOT go over there, Cynthia. Do you think I don’t know where you’ve been going three times a week?” She visibly paled at his words. Up until that moment, John wasn't entirely certain she was cheating, so her reaction surprised him somewhat but he proceeded anyway. “At first, you had me fooled. Counseling seemed like such a noble thing. But it never seemed to make any difference in your treatment of Peeta.”  
  
“I … what are you talking about? Are you accusing me of cheating?” She didn’t quite meet his eyes with her question. “Because if you are … .”  
  
“I guess it takes a cheater to know a cheater.” Her cheeks flushed to her ears. “Look, Cynthia, I don’t care what you do. I really don’t. But here’s the way it’s going to be around here from now. Peeta will work three, two-hour shifts after school a week, and every other Saturday. No morning shifts, and no late night shifts.”  
  
Cynthia pursed her lips. “Fine. Until he’s finished convalescing.”  
  
“No.” John held up his hand. “This is a permanent schedule change.”  
  
“That’s ridiculous. He’s our mon- … .”  
  
“Money-maker? No, Cynthia. We’ve done just fine without his help. I admit he’s got a talent for this work, but I’m not going to force it on him.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up his hand again. “And, you will leave him alone. No more vicious comments. No more … .”  
  
“All right! I get it,” Cynthia said, cutting him off. “You want to coddle him because he’s the baby. You are going to raise a sissy. His best friend is a girl, maybe he’s … .” But the look on John’s face stopped her cold.  
  
“It starts right now. No more snide comments. No more pushing or … .”  
  
“Fine. What do I get out of this?” She was seething by this point, but John didn’t care.  
  
“You, my dear Cynthia, can fuck any man who will have you with my blessing. You can have complete freedom, but on the surface you will appear to be happily married.”  
  
“And I suppose you will be fucking yourself silly.”  
  
He laughed without humor. “Me? No I have no intention of fucking anyone. Look at where it’s gotten me.”  
  
They stood staring at one another for along minute until Cynthia finally shrugged her shoulders. “Whatever, John, I know there’s some ulterior motive here, but I could really care less. Peeta can stay at the Everdeens for all I care. Just don’t blame me when his lazy ass … .”  
  
“I mean it Cynthia! LEAVE. HIM. ALONE.”  
  
The standoff continued for several more seconds before Cynthia huffed out impatiently. “Fine. I really don’t give a damn.” She turned on her heel and left the bakery.  
  
John watched her leave, running his hand wearily across his face. He knew that Cynthia never gave up that easily. On the other hand, he hoped he bought Peeta a little respite. He switched the mixer back on.  
  
As it turned out, that’s all it was … a little respite. For a few months, Cynthia outwardly either totally ignored Peeta or was distantly cordial. She bit her tongue when she reviewed the weekly work schedules with Peeta’s name appearing just three times, and always working with John. She slept in each morning rather than face him before her morning coffee. But inwardly, she was seething.  
  
For his part, Peeta avoided his mother whenever possible. If he wondered about the new set of circumstances, he didn’t dare voice it. For a few months, he enjoyed what was quite possibly the happiest days he had spent in the Mellark home.  
  
But all good things must come to an end.


	17. The Art of Accepting Gracefully

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's the latest installment of "The Parents." The Hunger Games characters are the property of Suzanne Collins.
> 
> If you're interested, look me up on tumbler: hey-youao
> 
> Thanks for reading!

“Take it Blake, please, just take it,” John pleaded.  
  
“No, absolutely not, John. I will not take money from you for caring for Peeta. ABSOLUTELY NOT.” Blake raised his voice to punctuate just how serious he was about not taking the money being offered. “I’ve told you before, I won’t take money from you.” Through the years, in lieu of money, John had supplied meat, bread, food items and gifts for the family.  
  
John shrugged his shoulders in defeat. This was the third conversation he had with Blake regarding the insurance funds Peeta had received as a result of the accident. The insurance company had paid all the medical bills associated with the accident in December. Additionally, however, the local agent had secured a large settlement offer which had shocked John initially, until it became clear that  Cynthia had approached the man about a possible lawsuit.  
  
The news angered John, and he had promptly went to the agent to decline the offer; however, the agent was reluctant to rescind the offer and went so far as to tell John that the money would insure Peeta’s future ability to go to college in the event that a sports scholarship was out of reach on account of his injury.  
  
John confided in Blake and Jen who understood his moral dilemma. Down deep each one believed Cynthia was far more at fault for what happened than the driver of the car. Still, it was Jen who said that the money was for Peeta, and if John managed it properly, Cynthia would not receive a dime.  
  
With that in mind, John secured a lawyer to act as trustee of the account, and they worked out a plan. No more than $15,000 could be withdrawn during each of the next seven years to be used at Peeta’s discretion, unless medically necessary to withdraw more funds.  
  
John wasn’t sure how to approach his eleven-year-old son with the news that he was a millionaire. He was almost certain Peeta would object to the money, so instead he decided to ask Peeta would he would do if he had a million dollars.   
  
Peeta grinned, “Oh that’s easy, Dad. I would take Katniss and Prim to Disneyland. Of course, Disney World is closer, but Disneyland we’d get to see the Rockies that we just studied about and maybe even Yellowstone, and the Redwood Forests, and the ocean, and … .”  
  
John laughed as his son listed off all the places his little boy heart would like to see, and then it dawned on him. A road trip like that was out of the question with Cynthia. One day in the car and she would be insisting they travel to the nearest airport. Besides, he did not want Cynthia to reap any benefits from the money.   
  
He thought it would just be a matter of offering the funds to Blake and Jen, but they thwarted every offer he made and rejected all his reasoning.  
  
“Blake,” John started quietly, hoping to diffuse the brewing situation. “Here’s the deal. Each year, Peeta has $15,000 he can spend as he wishes. He doesn’t know about the pot of money, but when I asked what he would like to do if he had the money to do it, the first words out of his mouth were to take Katniss and Prim to Disneyland.”  
  
Blake’s eyes remained stormy, but he said nothing. “Then he listed off all these National Parks they could see at the same time, and well, Peeta’s never really been on an extended vacation. Frankly, I would never want to take Cynthia on a cross-country trip, and besides, I don’t want her to see a nickel of his money. She’s already pissed that the majority is out of reach and I want to make sure Peeta spends the money the way he wants.”  
  
“I …,” Blake's resolve was melting.   
  
“Please Blake, take this vacation for Peeta. I know there’s no one he would rather spend it with than that little girl of yours. Use it for gas, hotels, entry fees, meals. Make it a trip to remember.”  
  
“Let me … let me talk to Jen. We’ll get back to you.”   
  
John nodded his head and hid his smile feeling confident that he had finally found the right argument.  
  
Later that day, Jen and John sat in the doctor’s office as he reviewed Peeta’s latest x-rays. “It’s really quite remarkable,” the doctor commented quietly as he viewed another angle. “Quite … remarkable.”  
  
Jen and John exchanged a relieved glance. If the doctor found it odd that Jen was there instead of Peeta’s mother, he said nothing. “I don’t need to tell you, Peeta’s break was bad. There are some doctors who would likely have recommended taking the leg off.” John’s face blanched white. “The break was in a bad place, but the healing has been incredible. I’m very pleased. You, Mrs. Everdeen, have been instrumental in this process.”  
  
John wiped tears from his face, and quickly gripped Jen’s hand. “I would say he’s about eighty-five to ninety percent; however, I understand Peeta would like to go out for Little League.” The pair nodded. “That’s out of the question right now. I want him to spend the summer resting his leg a bit more, running like a little boy would normally run, riding his bike, playing. Everything he normally does will strengthen his leg and make it more likely he will play sports in the future.” Again, they both nodded.  
  
“Do you want me to tell him?” John allowed a single nod. “Okay, just a minute.” The doctor went to his office door and called Peeta in. He looked anxiously at Katniss and reached his hand in her direction. She quickly took it and the two proceeded into the office together. “Have a seat,” the doctor gestured to the two remaining chairs.  
  
Peeta’s leg bounced uncontrollably as the doctor turned back to the x-rays and flipped the switch to illuminate them. For the next few minutes he explained the break and how the bone had mended itself. When he finished, he turned to Peeta, “Any questions?”  
  
“Just one,” Katniss interjected, and all eyes turned to her, “what does it all mean?”  
  
The doctor grinned at her directness. “It means that you, Peeta, are healing very nicely.” The pair exchanged relieved smiles. “But, Little League is out this summer.” Peeta’s eyes dropped.   
  
“Okay, well I guess I’ll spend more time at the bakery,” Peeta said without enthusiasm. His brothers both had baseball as a reprieve.   
  
“Wait, hold on,” the doctor said, his brow furrowing. “No work for you either. I made that clear to your mother in March, absolutely no work for you until you are one hundred percent. Is that clear?” Jen and John exchanged a confused glance.  
  
“You mentioned the ‘no work policy’ to my wife?”  
  
“Yes, I made it abundantly clear when she came here after his cast was off. No work for the next several months.”  
  
Peeta’s eyes widened at the announcement. The doctor continued, “Have fun Peeta, go out for swimming, play, relax, enjoy yourself.”  
  
It was the best news he had he had ever heard. To Peeta, the doctors announcement meant that he would probably spend most of the summer with the Everdeens. He wasn’t even particularly bothered by the fact that his mother had misled him.   
  
“Thanks, Doc!” Peeta said quickly as he jumped to his feet. “Is that it?” The doctor smiled and nodded. “Come on, Katniss, maybe we can get ice cream on the way home.”  
  
“Thank you, doctor,” John extended his hand to the man and shook it heartily.  
  
“You’re welcome. You have a remarkable young man there.”  
  
“Yes, I know,” John replied modestly as he and Jen turned to leave the office.  
  
The four left the clinic and headed up the street to the Ice Cream Shoppe where Peeta and Katniss split a Mega Sundae with most everything on it.   
  
“Have you and Blake discussed the trip?” John asked as they settled at a table just far enough from the booth Peeta and Katniss shared.   
  
“Yes,” Jen said, quietly. “I cant speak for Blake, but the information today makes me realize that Peeta is probably better off staying with us this summer to remove the temptation to make him work.”  
  
John nodded gravely, “You’re right but I intend to speak with Cynthia. The games she plays with … it’s got to stop!” Jen said nothing but silently fumed that Cynthia always managed to slide by with little more than a “talking to.” “Still, I hope you and Blake will take me up on the vacation idea.”  
  
“We’ll see, John. But rest assured, Peeta will have a great summer either way.”   
  
John nodded, and looked in the direction of Peeta and Katniss, who were giggling together as they ate the huge sundae. He loved seeing his youngest son so carefree and happy.   
  
That evening, Jen told Blake about the meeting with the doctor, and his words regarding Cynthia. Blake’s jaw clenched as he took in her words. “That … bitch,” Blake gritted in a rare curse. “She’s just … .” Jen ran her hand soothingly across his arm. “Jen, I know that I said I would never accept money from John for the care of Peeta, but this morning … .”  
  
“Blake, I think we should take the trip. It would be the perfect way to get Peeta away for awhile, and let him just enjoy being a little boy.”  
  
“I’ve got three weeks vacation I need to take this year or I’ll lose it.”   
  
“Three weeks? That’s … ,“ Jen could not contain the smile that blossomed, “wonderful, Blake. When?”  
  
“Second week of June, almost a month when you factor in the Fourth.”   
  
“So we’re going?”  
  
“Yep, if you’re willing to spend three weeks in a car traveling with three children, then so am I.”  
  
“Yes!” Jen cried. A real vacation, not just to the lake home or camping nearby, but all the way to the West Coast.   
  
“We’ll take the tent, and pack up our gear, but I expect we’ll have to spend some nights in hotels, and we’ll eat lunch and dinners out. Just make breakfasts and … .” Jen threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.  
  
The next morning with all three kids sitting around the table, Blake made the announcement. “Kids, I have something to tell you. Your Mom and I will be taking you on an extended vacation this summer.” Prim and Katniss squealed excitedly but Peeta remained uncharacteristically quiet, his eyes focussed on his cereal. “Something wrong, Peet?”  
  
“No … uh … no … have a good trip,” his voice nearly broke as he finished. He wanted to be happy for Katniss, he really did but he had been looking forward to spending the summer with her.  
  
“Well, we will,” Blake said with finality, “because there’s nothing I would rather do than take my wife and three kids on a trip to Disneyland.” Peeta looked up, surprise coloring his features.  
  
“Three?”  
  
“Of course, Peet. You don’t think we would go on a trip without you!” Peeta’s eyes widened and a grin spread quickly.  
  
“Of course not, Peety, you’re part of the family,” Katniss said, a tinge of exasperation in her voice as she wondered why he would even doubt that fact. “Wait! Disneyland?” Blake and Jen smiled, and all three kids bounded from their chairs hugging and talking over the top of each other.    
  
“Whoa, sit down and finish your breakfast. And, to show you just how much a part of the family you are, Peeta, you get to plan the itinerary.”   
  
Katniss and Peeta dominated the rest of the conversation as they tossed ideas back and forth. “We’ve got to see Old Faithful,” Katniss said, and Peeta quickly agreed.  
  
“And a ghost town!” Peeta said quickly, “and the Grand Canyon and the ocean and … .”  
  
Blake caught Jen’s eyes and she raised her coffee cup in salute.   
  
The summer of their eleventh years would become the most memorable for both children. Blake and Jen made memories that would last a lifetime for all the children. Later, Jen would consider the gift of a vacation providential as it proved to be a once in a lifetime trip for her and Blake. By the following summer, he was gone, and all they had left were memories.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy! I will continue the Kindergarten series as well. They are just too cute to shelve after four chapters.


End file.
